


From Upon the Golden Thrones [VOLUME I]

by myaekingheart



Series: The Temptation Chronicles [2]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Golden Age (Narnia), Multi, Narnia, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:23:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 105,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaekingheart/pseuds/myaekingheart
Summary: Upon Narnia’s rescue from Jadis’s tyranny, Aslan has crowned the Pevensies the rightful kings and queens of the land. Their infamous reign has ushered in an entirely new era– the Golden Age– however is not without it’s struggles. The young monarchs must learn to rule a country and engage in international affairs all while managing their personal lives from behind closed curtains– everything from insomnia to producing heirs. Ruling a country was never promised to be easy, but was it really meant to be this difficult?*Volume 1 consists of episodes/chapters 1-12.





	1. Prologue

      Cair Paravel was a beacon of light and hope upon the Narnian shores, glistening in the spring sunlight. After so many years of vacancy, it’s new tenants breathed fresh life into the palace and with them came the promise of a beautiful, prosperous future. Every creature in the land smiled with relief and hope that their new monarchs, the four Pevensie siblings, would return their dear country to it’s original splendor or even, perhaps, surpass it. For children of such an age, however, the expectations bestowed upon them were nonetheless exhausting. 

      Lucy broke from the bustle of the reception to gaze out upon the Narnian shores. The sun was just dipping behind the horizon, bathing everything it touched in a warm glow. The great lion himself glittered gold as he scaled the beach, engulfed in deep thought.   
      “Don’t worry, your Highness. We shall see him again” a familiar voice reassured her. Lucy whipped around to find Tumnus approaching, a sad smile gracing her lips. It seemed as though their adventure had only just begun, that just yesterday she had creeped into the back of the wardrobe in the spare room to find a wondrous land of snow and ice awaiting her. Now everything was changing in the blink of an eye.   
      “How do you know?” Lucy replied. Tumnus sidled up to her, resting his hands on the marble railing.   
      “He always does. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even next year. But in time, he shall come back to us, just as he always has” the faun replied. While Lucy wasn’t entirely pleased with his explanation, she furrowed her brows in hopes that the lion would return sooner rather than later. Aslan had become so special to her, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on how. He was like a brother and a lover and a friend all wrapped into one, their intimate bond the kind very rarely experienced by humankind. Watching him walk away left her heart yearning for him to return, aching for his presence and his comfort and his care.  
      “I’ll miss him” she murmured, eyes locked on the ground. Tumnus shook his head.  
      “We all will, Lucy Pevensie. But we must have faith that he shall return all in due time. You mustn’t nag him. After all, he’s not a tame lion” he replied. Lucy chuckled sadly, raising her gaze up to the faun before turning back to the shoreline. In the blink of an eye, the lion was gone. Tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes, her chest feeling as if a piece of it had been ripped straight out. While she knew he would return someday, her body couldn’t help but feel weighed down by grief as if he had died all over again.  
      As the first of many teardrops slipped down Lucy’s cheeks, Tumnus rested a hand upon her back and then with his other, fished a small square of white fabric from beneath his scarf. The corner of his lips turned upward into a small smile as he handed her the token, replying, “I believe you need this more than I do.” As Lucy unfolded the gift, she realized very quickly that it was none other than the handkerchief she had given him so long ago, with the lace trim along the edges and her name embroidered in periwinkle thread. The same handkerchief Tumnus had left behind at Beaversdam, the token that incited Eilonwy’s rage. To think, it all started with a handkerchief.   
      Lucy dabbed her eyes, sniffling, in an attempt to compose herself before whispering “I guess we better go tell the others.” Tumnus simply nodded and ushered her toward her siblings.   
      Peter’s face was bright red as Eilonwy broke free of their kiss, smiling up at him. All their tension and adventure had led to this singular moment, the true confession of her feelings and confirmation of his. Before they could utter another word to each other, however, Susan whisked past, tugging her elder brother’s hand in hers. “Peter, come here for a moment. Lucy has something important to tell us.” Peter couldn’t help but obey. Curious about the commotion, Eilonwy followed close behind.   
      “Well, what is it, Lu? Come on, out with it!” Edmund pressed.   
      Lucy sucked in a deep breath and straightened her back, hands clasped together before her. Tumnus stood beside her as her support, encouraging her to proceed with the announcement. Finally, the young girl spoke. “Aslan is gone. He’s left” she said.   
      Susan’s face contorted in confusion. “He’s left? What do you mean?”   
      “Well, when the great lion has done his job” Tumnus began, “he returns to…wherever it is that he goes when he’s not here. But don’t you worry, your majesties, he will return in due time.”   
      “So when is he coming back?” Edmund asked, shoving a handful of almonds into his mouth. Even during the most important of announcements, he couldn’t keep away from snacks.   
      “He’ll return when he’s ready, I suppose” Lucy replied. “As Tumnus has said, he’s not a tame lion.”   
      “So what are we supposed to do now?” Susan questioned. An obvious tone of panic rang through her voice, regardless of how much she tried to hide it.   
      Peter had remained quiet during the entire discussion, mulling over Lucy’s words and contemplating how to handle such a circumstance. After all, he was a king now, and not only that but the High King. It was his responsibility to make the big decisions. After a moment of unanimous silence, finally the eldest Pevensie spoke. “I suppose there’s only one thing we can do now: make do without him and take this country into our own hands. Narnia is our responsibility now.”   
      As terrifying as a thought that was, deep down the three younger siblings knew Peter was right. Aslan had assigned them to rule and protect his country but he never guaranteed to hold their hands the entire way. He was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it. And so with that, they all stood a little taller, spoke a little louder, and journeyed together into this dark pit called monarchy.


	2. VOL 1, EP. 1: Long Live

   Summer sunshine dipped it’s curve toward the horizon as the Pevensies stood upon the docks watching the last ships depart. Cair Paravel had been so bustling in the heat of the coronation that the siblings could scarcely imagine it empty. Peter watched as the last of their guests disappeared with a sigh. Now that everyone was gone, the time for play was over. Childish fantasy made way for kingly responsibility. It was time to grow up. 

   Peter turned to face his siblings and friend. His eyes shifted from one to the other individually, taking in their tense expressions and unsure eyes. Something unanimously ached within all their chests, even Eilonwy’s, as she stood beside the Pevensies with arms crossed and eyes fixed on the sea. “Alright” Peter said, finally breaking the silence. Straightening his back, he spoke in the most composed voice he could muster. “No use standing around. We’ve got work to attend to.” He was met with silent nods and tight-clasped hands and with that, they all retreated with heavy steps back to their new home.   
   The moment they stepped through the doors, everything changed. They were no longer in beautiful, sunkissed Narnia. Now they were in charge. Tumnus rushed forward, scroll in hand, and directed the monarchs this way and that down long hallways overrun with staff members. The faun’s hair was disheveled and his face was flushed, obviously distressed by his newfound responsibilities.   
   "Royal advising getting the best of you there, Tumnus?“ Eilonwy asked, rocking back and forth on her heels. The faun opened his mouth to reply before huffing and dropping his shoulders.  
   "You’d understand the stress if it were you” he finally said back.   
   "I can imagine" she replied. “Now, with all that information on that page of yours there, you seem to have been doing a rather fine job of directing everyone everywhere except for one. What of me?”   
  Tumnus’s back shot ramrod straight, ears perking up at the question. He had been so concerned with the servants and the cooks and the ladies in waiting and the maids, let alone the kings and queens themselves, that he had nearly forgotten all about Eilonwy. It wasn’t that she was unimportant, necessarily. Just far less important than everyone else. The faun scrambled for a proper answer that wasn’t nearly so harsh.   
   "You’ve nothing for me, have you?“ Eilonwy finally said, interrupting the faun’s thought. With a defeated sigh, Tumnus shook his head.   
   "I’m afraid not.”  
   A groan rose from deep within Eilonwy’s throat as she tossed her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Well, can’t you make up something for me? I could wash windows! I could wash sheets! Hell, I could wash you for all I care!’ she begged. The crazed desperation in her eyes was unnerving but Tumnus stood firm.   
   "I’m sorry, Ellie, but everything’s already taken care of. You’ve done far more than your share, anyways. If it wasn’t for you, half of this would never have even happened. I say your only duty should be to go settle in. Relax. Take some time to pamper yourself for once in your life” the faun replied. She would’ve rolled her eyes right in front of him had it not been for the ingenuity lacing his words but she was much kinder than that. She waited till he wasn’t looking.   
   "Go pamper yourself, Eilonwy! Take a load off, Eilonwy!“ she muttered to herself as she trudged upstairs. "Pathetic. Do I look like the kind of person who just lazes around with servants fanning me and feeding me grapes? Of fecking course not. Hah.” Once she reached the landing, she stared back down the winding staircase in disgust only to blow a raspberry down it and stomp off to her chambers like a child. At least she was able to snag her old bedroom back. It wasn’t much but at least it was something. The familiarity was reassuring in a time of such abrupt change.   
  Eilonwy continued grumbling to herself as she swung the door open and flopped backward onto her bed. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes that she realized she wasn’t exactly alone.   
   "Who the hell are you?!“ she shrieked, immediately hopping to her feet. She searched the room for some makeshift weapon before snatching an arrow from her quiver and pointing the tip toward the stranger. Before her stood a timid young faun, eyes wide with panic as she clutched one of Eilonwy’s old dresses to her chest. "Give me that!” Eilonwy spat, snatching the dress from her hands. “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing in my private quarters? Get out! I gave no one permission to enter here!”   
   "I-I-I’m so sorry, Lady Eilonwy. I was just– I was ordered to– I–“ she stammered. Eilonwy’s impatience was blazing.  
   "Out with it!”  
   "Sir Tumnus requested I remaster and launder your clothes, my lady" the faun finally said, fast and quiet, eyes downcast.   
   "Oh, yeah? Well since when does Tumnus make the rules here?“ Eilonwy questioned.   
   "I-I don’t…”   
   "He doesn’t. Exactly. These are my quarters and I say who comes and who goes, not him. Understand?“   
   "But I just–”  
   "Out!“   
   The faun wrung her hands together and bit her lower lip as she mumbled a soft, "Yes, my lady”, quickly curtsied, and scurried out of the room. The moment she was in the hallway, she rose a finger and opened her mouth to speak but before she could utter a word, Eilonwy slammed the door in her face.   
   With an exasperated groan, Eilonwy once more fell backward onto her bed. She didn’t need someone to remaster and launder her clothes. Her clothes were fine just the way they were, stains and all. Who did this little faun even think she was, anyways? Just as Eilonwy was beginning to finally cool down, there was a squeaking noise from the doorway. She sat upright only to find a folded note slipped beneath her door. Skeptical, she took it up and unfolded it carefully, only to find a message from the faun herself. “ ‘Slan blimey” she muttered, scanning the words. The note read, as follows:   
   My lady, if you find yourself in need of absolutely anything else, it is my service and duty to provide the aforementioned unto you by will of Aslan and assignment of Sir Tumnus.   
   ~Miss Hattie, Lady in Waiting   
   Another noise of disgust. “Great, now I’ve got ladies. Just perfect.” In yet another act of exasperation, Eilonwy crumpled the note, fell back onto her bed for the third time that hour, and cocooned herself in every musty garment available. 

   A flurry of paperwork swirled through the office as Peter rubbed his temples in the midst of the blizzard. Oreius groaned and, shaking his head, attempted to reorganize the stack but was halted by a slam on the desk.   
   "I can’t do this! It’s too much!“ Peter complained. His eyes were bloodshot from focusing on the intricate script for so long, the angular swirls of every letter scribbled in such tiny font that even a magnifier was hardly any help.   
   "Your highness, it is your duty and responsibility to prepare yourself for the tasks at hand” Oreius stated bluntly. Despite the characteristic calm of his voice, Peter could tell the centaur was growing frustrated with him. Five hours and Peter still barely understood anything.   
   Exasperated, the High King slumped into a massive armchair and stared up at the ceiling. This part of the castle was far older than the foyer and living quarters, the ceiling far less intricate and the windows smaller and bleaker. A candle flickered on the side table. “I know how important it is that I learn Narnia’s laws but I just can’t focus right now. None of it makes sense anymore. It’s just a bunch of foreign figures.”   
  The centaur glanced back at the high stack of papers in disappointment. Peter had always had doubts but Oreius didn’t know him like this– so unsure of himself and vulnerable. Truthfully, it made the centaur rather uncomfortable. After all, emotional confessions weren’t exactly his niche. After a few moments of torturous silence, he opened his mouth to speak but was gratefully interrupted by the creak of the door sliding open.   
   "How has studying been coming along?“ Susan asked softly, peeking through the doorway. Peter simply shook his head, eyes closed. The gentle queen shot Oreius a glance, which he returned with displeasure, before Susan nodded and inched her way deeper into the room. "Oreius, might I please have a moment alone with my brother?” she requested. The centaur nodded and departed presently.   
   At first, Susan was unsure of what to say. She glanced around the office, absorbing it’s dim interior and massive oak bookshelves, the large desk and mass of scripture. “Well, no wonder you can’t think straight in here. There’s hardly any light” Susan replied with a forced chuckle. Peter did not laugh. Susan frowned. “Come on, Peter, tell me what’s bothering you” she requested, kneeling down beside the armchair. The high king released a frustrated huff.   
   "Su, I can’t do this! There’s so much to remember and none of it makes a damn bit of sense! All I see anymore are shapes on a page. There’s no content. Just form" Peter vented.   
   "No one said this would be easy, Peter" Susan interjected.  
   "I know! But no one ever mentioned just how hard it would be, either" Peter replied. By now, he had leapt from his chair and was waving his arms around like a lunatic, face red and eyes tired. “This is all moving way too fast and I can’t handle this. Just yesterday, we were shipped away from home nearly bombed to death and now we’re suddenly ruling a country? I don’t think I’m mature enough for this!”  
   "Peter, compose yourself!“ Susan plead. "You’re acting as if you’re the only one feeling this way and that’s absolutely absurd. Don’t you think Ed and Lu and I are just as overwhelmed at all of this?”   
   "But that’s different" Peter said, brushing off her words. “You don’t have the entire weight of Narnia resting upon your shoulders.”  
   "Yes, we do!“ Susan said. "We’re under just as much stress as you are, Peter!”   
   "But I’m the High King!“ he shouted. Susan instantly recoiled, a look of shock and fear painting her face as if someone had just stabbed her in the chest. Those five simple words spoke volumes and she wasn’t sure she was very fond of the melody.   
   "Just because you’re High King doesn’t mean we’re inferior to you, Peter. We’re all in this together. Equally” Susan murmured, voice strained. Her eyes grew glossy but she refused to let her dignity waver. Breaking down was reserved for moments spent beside oneself. Her teeth chomped down on the inside of her cheek as she stared hard and cold at her brother before shaking her head in disgust and bolting out of the room.   
   Peter watched her disappear but didn’t have the energy to do anything about. They’d reconcile later when neither of them were sleepless and strained. For now, all he could do was stare ahead before burying his head in his hands.   
   "Aslan chose me for a reason…“ he whispered to himself. He shook his head before he could extend the thought, running a hand through his hair and blowing out the candle until he was entrenched in absolute darkness. 

   By the time Eilonwy awoke, there was nothing but starlight filtering through her windows. Her long hair had tangled around her arms and neck like cobwebs and a musty taste resided in her mouth. All her gowns had tumbled into a pile of linen and silk on the floor. With a soft groan, she blinked to refocus and glanced around, trying to comprehend her whereabouts. It was as if she had slept for centuries and was just now waking from a long and exhausting dream. Even her limbs ached though she couldn’t quite discern why. She brushed the hair away from herself and tied it back with a ribbon, thinking of how happy her mother would be to see her trying to tidy her unkempt locks. She hadn’t seen her mother in ages. Eilonwy wondered if she was just as beautiful as she remembered. And her father, was he still the same brawny man she knew and loved? If she closed her eyes, she could see him in his study neck-deep in piles of paperwork. A flitting jolt of light lifted inside her.   
  Slipping her little house flats on, Eilonwy gathered her skirts and barrelled down the halls of Cair Paravel. Regardless of how late it was, Papa was certainly still awake. He always was. By the time she reached the door to his office, her heart leapt into her throat. It was as if she had finally regained something she felt as if she had somehow lost, like when you dream of losing someone only to wake up and remember they never died. Eilonwy paused for only a split second before bursting through the doorway and diving toward the grand armchair, wrapping her arms around the seated and laughing wildly.   
   "Papa, I’ve missed you!” she shrieked, but something wasn’t right. The figure she hugged now was stiff and straight and skinny. She could no longer feel the tickle of the old king’s beard against her forehead. Rather, all she could feel now were shallow, warm breaths. The huntress’s heart sank. Slowly backing away, she felt around the desk for a match and lit the nearest candle, illuminating the ominous space with a soft glow. Staring back at her was none other than Peter, eyes bloodshot and mouth agape.  
   "Eilonwy…?“ he whispered softly, voice laced with both confusion and concern. But Eilonwy couldn’t speak. She could hardly even breathe. It wasn’t a dream. Her wintry adventure, the battle with the witch, had all really happened. And her family…they were truly dead. Struggling to swallow, Eilonwy stumbled backwards and gasped for air. Her clenched fists trembled at her sides as she fell into the armchair and buried her face in her hands. Peter, snapping from his daze, gripped her arm and lead her back down the hallway to her chambers. "Eilonwy, calm down. You’re just having a bad dream” he croaked. She never was sure if the slur of his words was from exhaustion or because of her distorted perception at the time. Halfway to her bedroom, everything blurred and Eilonwy collapsed in the High King’s arms. 

   A gentle rap on the door stirred Peter from his studies. “Come in” he murmured, eyes locked on the text.   
   "Peter? May I speak with you for a moment?“ a voice softly spoke. Peter glanced up to find Eilonwy standing before him, hands clasped in front of her nervously. His grip on his quill tightened a moment before he motioned for her to sit.   
   "How are you feeling?” he asked, barely maintaining eye contact.   
   "I’m…alright, I guess?“ she asked in confusion. "Peter, listen, we need to talk.”   
   "Can it wait? I’m kind of busy at the moment" he replied. He spoke slowly, words dragging, refusing to compromise his focus.   
   "Um, well, not really, no" Eilonwy replied. “Listen, Peter, it’s been a week since the dignitaries left and I’ve scarcely seen you this whole time. I know you’re busy and all but can’t you make at least a little time for me?”   
   Peter sighed in exasperation, finally looking up from his text. His hair was strewn in a thousand different directions and dark circles exaggerated the blue of his eyes. “Eilonwy, I don’t have time for this! Go find someone else to talk to or something else to do that doesn’t interrupt me. Please” he begged. Eilonwy eyed him painfully, not expecting such a harsh response, but simply nodded once, stood and made her way out of the room. The moment she closed the door was the moment they both broke. 

   “Lu, what do you think about this one?” Susan asked, twirling to display a lavender chiffon gown. Lucy watched from the padded bench at the foot of her sister’s bed, a wide grin spreading across her face as she nodded in enthusiastic approval.   
   "Definitely that one! It compliments your hair!“ she gushed. A soft blush spread across Susan’s cheeks as she ran her hand through the soft fabric. Before she could slip behind her divider to dress, however, a knock at the door interrupted her.   
   "Susan? Lucy? Might I come in for a moment?” a voice called. Lucy instantly recognized it as Eilonwy’s. Bounding to the door, the littlest Pevensie swung it open and ushered the huntress inside.  
   "Ellie! If only you had come earlier. I was just helping Susan pick out a dress for the day" Lucy exclaimed.   
   "Oh, well I’m sorry I missed that. I’m sure you did just fine choosing without me, though. I’m not sure Queen Susan and I share similar tastes, anyway" Eilonwy replied, forcing a soft chuckle. Lucy took her by the hand and guided her to the bench, patting the empty space beside her.   
   "Did you need something, Eilonwy?“ Susan asked, peeking over her divider and slipping off her robe. The silhouette of her youthful body showed through the opaque paneling as sunlight filtered through the window behind.   
   "Uh, well, actually, I came to ask you something. Both of you” Eilonwy stammered. “You see, I’ve been kind of, um…well, adjusting to being back at the Cair has, I suppose, proven…slightly difficult.” Susan paused a moment, posed awkwardly with one arm through the sleeve of her dress.   
   "How so…?“ she asked cautiously, slowly sliding her other arm into it’s respective sleeve.   
   "Well, I’ve been having these…uh…dreams lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s stupid. I just…do you ever feel like things you’ve always wondered about aren’t quite what they’re cracked up to be once they’ve happened?” Eilonwy spoke. This time, it was Lucy who responded.   
  “I think I understand” she said, brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t know about you, Susan, but I feel like everything has happened so quickly and it feels strange knowing this is our home now. Our new home all on our own without mum or dad. I miss them terribly.”   
   Susan glided out from behind the divider, a vision in purple. The way the skirt flowed down to the floor made her seem as if she was made of mist floating across the room rather than walking. Her face remained somber as she perched herself upon her vanity stool. “I miss them, too, Lu. It just doesn’t feel right knowing we have so much yet can’t share it with them. Mum would simply die for dresses like these” she said, a sad smile painting her face as she petted her skirt. Lucy nodded in agreement.   
   "So…do you feel like you don’t belong here?“ Eilonwy questioned.   
   "Somewhat, I suppose…” Susan murmured. She felt terrible admitting such a thing but would feel even worse if she had lied. “See, we never asked to be kings and queens. We were all just kind of thrown into this. Now there’s all these laws and customs we have to learn and know like the backs of our hands, and the fate of an entire country rests on our shoulders. What if we aren’t cut out for this? What if we can’t be the kings and queens Narnia deserves? I can’t help but feel like a part of me just isn’t meant for this.”   
   Lucy turned to her sister with melancholy. “Do you think it’ll ever get easier?”   
   Susan wrapped her arms around her waist and with a sympathetic gaze, replied back, “I can only hope so.” 

   Eilonwy was losing hope and fast. She hoped she might find some feminine comfort in Susan and Lucy but that was a bust. Peter hardly spoke to her. She was running out of options. She should’ve known, however, that interpersonal skills wouldn’t be of much use to her. There was only one thing left to do now and it wasn’t until she started that she wondered why she hadn’t just tried this in the first place.   
  The courtyard was almost exactly as she had remembered it with the balcony overhead and the gardens down below. A few straw soldiers were still stacked in the shed behind the topiaries, some crumbling more than others but a few were still in relatively decent shape. She dragged them out into the center of the yard, adjusting their position til they were just right, before unsheathing her sword and diving into her training. There was something about the swoosh of her blade, the way it cut through the air, that was welcoming to her ears. It sounded like home and happiness. She leapt from benches and ducked beneath branches, dancing a carefully choreographed waltz of friend versus foe. It was all very methodical and routine until another blade unexpectedly met hers. With a gasp, Eilonwy whipped around to view her opponent, slashing at him viciously before realizing she was at odds with none other than King Edmund the Just. The moment she recognized him, she instantly dropped of her offense.   
   "K-King Edmund! Where the hell did you come from?“ Eilonwy panted, brushing the stray hair from her face. Edmund chuckled and sheathed his sword.   
   "Well, I heard someone down here fighting and wanted to see what all the fuss was about. When I saw it was you, I decided it might be fun to test you a little bit. I knew you were good but you’re much better than I thought” Edmund explained. A crooked smile crossed his lips as he folded his arms, speaking very matter-of-factly.   
   Eilonwy rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the arm. “Yeah? Well don’t do it again unless you want to lose your head, alright?” Edmund watched as the maiden walked past him toward the archway, suddenly terrified she was leaving already.   
  “W-wait!” he called after her. She paused and turned to face him. “Do you…well, do you think you might be able to teach me some of those moves? I want to be as good as Peter so I can shock him next time we spar. I haven’t had nearly as much practice as he has, either.”  
  Eilonwy stared back at him incredulously for a moment, trying to process his request. Never had she ever been asked to teach someone to fight before. Nobody ever really needed to learn. She didn’t consider herself a teacher, anyways. She always found herself far too impatient to deal with such trivial things. But Edmund was different. He was much like herself. He had been through hell and back and survived the wrath of the witch much like she had. If King Lorr could teach Eilonwy, then perhaps Eilonwy could stand to teach Ed. He stared back at her with all the promise and determination she imagined her father must’ve seen in her and so, with a sigh, she shook her head with disbelief, unsheathed her sword, and prepared to teach her first lesson.   
   At first, Edmund was stiff and uncoordinated. He acted on impulse, slashing whatever and whenever in a manner not unlike that of an octopus wiggling his tentacles. It was important to note, as well, that Edmund was still rather sore from battle. Every so often, he’d need to pause a moment to catch his breath and let the stitch in his side fade away. Despite Lucy’s cordial, the fireflower’s juice could only do so much and as a consequence, a few tinges of pain still pierced Edmund’s stomach where the White Witch had stabbed him not so long ago. But Ed was persistent. He took the minimal amount of respite he could manage before leaping back into the fray and as the afternoon progressed, Eilonwy could sense him getting better already.   
   The clanging of their blades rang through Eilonwy’s ears, the glint of the sunlight nearly blinding her vision until suddenly, Edmund began to change. He was no longer the scrawny boy she had grown so familiar with but now a tall, burly man with wide shoulders and a silver beard. With each lunge of his blade, he released a deep-chested laugh, towering over the maiden like the trunk of a tree. Eilonwy gazed up at him with admiration and warmth, no longer fighting the boy king but the figure of her own father in the afternoon light. Everything was suddenly as it once was and had always been.   
   "Hook left! Defend! Defend!“ the voice shouted jovially. Eilonwy erupted into wild laughter, the happiest she had felt in a long while. Then, just as quickly as it came, the happiness faded and the face shifted once more.   
   Her father’s once kind eyes now transformed into a squinty, harsh glare as silver curls turned to jet black tendrils and a bearded face became a fierce, stubbly jawline. "You fight reasonably well for a girl!” the deep voice insulted, followed by a hearty, condescending laugh. A lump rose in Eilonwy’s throat as she clenched her jaw and swung harder and faster at her opponent. “The battlefield is no place for a girl!” the voice taunted, echoing in her ears over and over again. Dark eyes clouded her vision, suddenly the only thing she could see in a field of blackness, and with labored breath, Eilonwy tumbled to her knees.   
   "R-Rolf…“ she whispered in disbelief, face stark white and mouth bone dry.   
   Edmund threw his sword into the grass and rushed to Eilonwy’s side. "E-Eilonwy, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling down beside her. The maiden could hardly respond. Glancing frantically around the courtyard, Edmund then hoisted her off the ground and stumbled toward the nearest bench, just barely supporting her weight before cautiously sitting her down. “W-what’s the matter? Are you alright?”   
   "Y-Yeah…I’m fine" she croaked back.   
   "Do you need anything? You look terrible. I can get you some water or something" Edmund offered. The panic in his face was blatantly obvious but Eilonwy was taken aback more by his kindness than anything else. She hadn’t expected him, the boy who had once trudged half naked through the snow, to be so nurturing– especially toward someone like herself. But then again, she had to remember she and Edmund weren’t all that different in the first place.   
   The huntress shook her head minutely, struggling to regulate her breath, hands gripping the edge of the bench. “Please, just…just sit with me” she requested hoarsely when she could finally speak. Edmund nodded and did as he was asked, watching her cautiously, terror in his face. “Sorry to startle you” she added.  
   "No, no, no! Don’t apologize. Please. It’s alright" Edmund replied. “What happened to you out there? It’s like you completely clocked out.”   
   Eilonwy tightened her grip on the bench and averted her eyes. Now that someone was actually showing they cared, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk about it. But then again, Edmund deserved answers. “I haven’t exactly been handling things very well” she whispered. Edmund cocked his head in interest, urging her to proceed. “I just…returning to the Cair hasn’t exactly been very easy. I never thought I’d ever come back here but now that I have…” A sigh.   
  “The change isn’t very easy?” he questioned. Eilonwy shrugged and nodded. “I know how you feel. When we were sent to the professor’s house because of the war, adjusting wasn’t very easy for us, either. It’s not like we wanted to leave! But we had no choice. They basically took us from our homes and shipped us off to some strange man’s house in the countryside” Edmund explained. Eilonwy listened intently, pleased to be hearing more of how the Pevensies managed to find their way to Narnia in the first place. She had heard of the Spare Oom in War Drobe and all that but she never knew the story of how and why. Not really. “I can’t even begin to explain how much I missed Mum and Dad. Especially Dad. He went away to war and I was so scared I’d never see him again. I still am.”   
   Something about the way Edmund spoke of his father, explaining their complex but special relationship, struck a chord with Eilonwy. She saw so much of herself in this strange little boy it was incredible. Perhaps she wasn’t so alone, after all.  
   "I was a horrible little pest when we first left, though" he continued. “I was so mean to everyone. I was so mad at everything. Actually, it wasn’t until Narnia that I started to really learn what it meant to appreciate my siblings. Spending that time cooped up in the White Witch’s dungeon wasn’t easy. It gave me a lot of time to think about things. I made some pretty awful decisions and I regret them a lot, but if I hadn’t gone and made a mess of things, I never would’ve learned some pretty important lessons. I never would’ve realized how important it is to treat others with kindness because you’re never guaranteed to stay with them or wake up tomorrow morning to them. I was so scared I’d never see Peter and Susan and Lucy again, or that they’d end up where I was in the White Witch’s prison, that it really made me realize how big a mistake I had made.”  
   Eilonwy listened intently as he recounted his experience, explaining of how she, too, had felt the White Witch’s wrath. She strayed from explaining the details, however. She didn’t want to delve too deep into the past. She had already been haunted by it enough in the following weeks. Listening to Edmund ramble, however, miraculously calmed her. His words, so wise for someone so young, put her heart and mind at ease– or at least for now. Her time spent at the Cair would no doubt be an uphill battle but Edmund’s words made her realize that she needed to remind herself that the past is the past and she cannot do anything to change that. Every decision she made, every mistake and wrong turn, led her to where she was now: back home but with new family in a Narnia on it’s way to revival. It may not have been the ideal return home but it was better than nothing.   
   As Eilonwy trekked back to her bedroom, Edmund’s words on kindness echoed in her mind. Peering through the doorway, she heard humming from her bedroom only to find Hattie, the meek little faun, nervously folding some of her old dresses and storing them in her bureau. Every so often, she’d silence herself and glance at the doorway for fear of Eilonwy entering and yelling at her once again. This time, however, Eilonwy remained fairly quiet. She sucked in a deep breath, straightened her back, and tiptoed into the room. Hattie looked up the moment she heard her enter, freezing in her tracks, but was greeted with a small, soft smile instead. Unsure of how to respond, Hattie slowly went back to her work, always aware of Eilonwy’s eyes locked on her rigid frame. Just as she finished, Eilonwy edged closer and hesitantly rested a hand on the faun’s shoulder. Hattie gasped and her spine went ramrod straight, hands trembling at her sides as she slowly turned to face the huntress. It wasn’t until that moment that they both realized just how close to the same height they both were, nearly staring at one another at approximate eye level. Hattie gazed upon the huntress with wide eyes before quickly diverting her attention to the floor, bracing herself for a scolding. Instead, all Eilonwy said was a simple, “Thank you.”


	3. VOL 1, EP. 2: Lucy's Insomnia

      “Susan, can you pass the bacon?” Edmund asked one morning from the breakfast table. A wide assortment of food was placed before them: steaming bacon still crackling from the griddle, runny eggs whose yolks pooled on their plates, stacks of waffles overflowing with syrup and fruit compote. It was like Edmund’s morning dream come true. 

      Susan nodded and glanced over to the platter of bacon near Lucy, opening her mouth to ask her to pass it closer but then gasping when she discovered the young girl’s face was nearly smothered in syrup. “Lucy!” she shouted. The littlest Pevensie snapped her head up, eyelids drooping and syrup covering her chin. “What on earth was that about?”   
      “I-I’m sorry, Susan…I suppose I…dozed off a bit” she yawned, resting her jaw on her fist. She was trapped in a daze, constantly half asleep.   
      “Lu, what’s been going on with you? This is the fifth time this week” Peter replied. Lucy’s exhaustion was beginning to become routine, which was not customary nor appropriate for a young queen. For their baby sister, it was even more worrisome.   
      “I just haven’t been able to sleep very well” she replied softly, eyes downcast. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, making her look far older and more ghoulish than any little girl should.   
      “I don’t understand” Susan replied. “There’s no reason you should be having this much trouble sleeping. Is it your bed? Are you uncomfortable?” Lucy shook her head. Neither of her siblings found that excuse credible, since Lucy had often gushed about how much she adored the plush mattress and heavenly sheets.   
      “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me” Lucy lied through yet another yawn. Her sister eyed her suspiciously but said not another word on the matter. 

* * *

    “Oreius, may I speak with you for a minute?” Susan asked, peering her head through the doorway. The centaur was engulfed in a rather large tome, the text so tiny Susan could barely tell if it was even in English. At first, Oreius seemed displeased at the interruption until he glanced up to find the gentle queen approaching. He motioned her forward and stepped away from his book.  
      “What is it, your majesty?” he asked. His deep voice echoed down the long aisles of tall bookshelves.   
      “It’s Lucy, sir. I’m worried about her. She hasn’t been sleeping and I’m unsure of what to do. She needs help but she refuses to admit she has a problem” Susan explained. Oreius nodded knowingly.   
      “Her tutor has mentioned she has been dozing off during lessons, as well” Oreius stated. Susan dropped into the nearest seat and buried her face in her hands.   
      “I just don’t know what to do! This isn’t healthy. I know we’ve all been under a great deal of stress but this isn’t like Lucy to not be open about whatever is bothering her, or to be bothered by much at all” Susan explained. “I just don’t know what to do. Talking hasn’t done much help. Could there be anything in one of these books? A cure for insomnia, perhaps?”   
      Oreius furrowed his brows a moment before shaking his head. “There could but I don’t think they’ll be of much help. If you ask me, you should call Aesop” he suggested.   
      “Aesop…?” Susan repeated. The name seemed vaguely familiar, though she still didn’t quite understand.   
      The centaur simply nodded before elaborating. “Aesop is the great centaur of the Western Wood. He is a fine medicine man known for healing all manners of afflictions and injuries. His talent rivals even that of the fireflower itself.”   
      Susan nodded slowly, chewing over Oreius’s words. “Well, if you think he’ll help…”

* * *

* * *

    "I still don’t see much of a point to this” Peter murmured to his sister. Susan quickly shushed him, shooting him a sharp glare.   
      “Oreius said he was the best of the best and I believe him. We’re running out of options, Peter” she shot back. The High King simply groaned and shook his head. The four monarchs stood upon the precipice overlooking the whole of Narnia, watching as a group of guards came into view. As they grew nearer, they could identify two centaurs in tow, one an old man and the other nearly unidentifiable in a velvet hood which nearly covered their entire face.   
      Upon reaching the gate, the old centaur and his assistant both bowed to the kings and queens in respect. “Good day, your highnesses. I am Aesop of the Western Wood and this is my apprentice, Nefyn. The good knight Oreius says you are troubled and in need of my assistance.”   
      “Y-Yes, sir” Susan stammered. Now that they were face to face, she was much more intimidated by his towering and muscular frame than she expected. His pale eyes and snowy long beard were a stark contrast to his tanned skin and he eyed them with all the power and terror that they first saw in Aslan himself.   
      “Where is the child for whom you have called upon me?” he stated, glancing from Peter to Susan to Edmund. Lucy had been far too sleepy and achy to join them.   
      “Lucy is upstairs. We’ll lead you to her” Peter replied.   
      “There is no need” Aesop stated bluntly. “I am perfectly capable of finding her myself.” With that, he pushed past the siblings and entered the castle on his own accord, tall and confident. His assistant sauntered close behind, a saddle bag of herbs and potions strapped to her flank.   
      “I don’t like this at all” Peter whispered to his sister. Susan shushed him once more though he could tell even she had grown skeptical, too. 

* * *

     “Peter, what’s taking so long?!” Susan complained. She had been pacing the dining room for two hours and by now was exhausted but still too paranoid to stop. Her eyes flitted to the door once more, terrified. “I can’t believe we left him alone with her, that…that…creep!”  
      “Su, have you forgotten that this was your idea?” Peter questioned, chin resting against his fist. Susan shot him a death glare.   
      “Don’t blame me! This is Oreius’s fault! He’s the one who suggested we call upon this guy in the first place!” she snapped back.   
      “How do you know he’s bad?” Edmund interrupted, mouth full, as he edged his way through the kitchen door. He took a seat next to Peter with a massive platter of snacks. “That pantry’s a gold mine” he added, proud of his findings.   
      Susan paused a moment as she considered her brother’s words. He had a point. She didn’t truly know whether Aesop was a bad man. It was just so hard to believe otherwise when he was so mysterious and strange. Before she could reply back, however, the double doors burst open and the centaur himself walked into the room.   
      “Well?” Peter asked, eyeing the man expectantly. Aesop gave a single nod.   
      “She shall be well” was all he said. The three Pevensies stared back at him as if they expected more but he simply eyed each of them for a moment before walking out of the room. His assistant followed close behind but not until they had very stealthily stolen an apple from Edmund’s platter before he could even notice.   
      “That’s it?!” Susan shouted. She glared back at Peter and Edmund, expecting them to do something, before running off after the centaur to take care of it herself. She wanted answers– real answers, not short sentences without any substance. Peter watched his sister barrel out of the room and, with a sigh, stood up and motioned to Edmund to follow him. The just king picked up his platter, biscuit hanging out of his mouth, and chased after the two.   
      “Aesop, wait! Wait a minute!” Susan called after the centaur on his way to his chambers. “I don’t exactly think you gave us a very substantial answer. What’s wrong with Lucy? Why can’t she sleep? And what are you going to do about it?”   
      The centaur, taken aback, stared back at her with wide eyes a moment before glancing to his apprentice. All they did was bow their head. Aesop sighed. “Come. I will show you” he replied, motioning for them to follow him. The centaur trotted back to Lucy’s chambers where she napped restlessly, still sitting up in bed. Peter clenched his fists at his side, hating to see her so uncomfortable. “The young queen seems to be suffering a bout of homesickness” Aesop explained.   
      “Homesickness? Well, so are all of us” Susan retorted. The centaur shook his head.   
      “Not like this. Queen Lucy is but a foal and has not yet learned the beauty of adjustment. Moving to the castle seems to be a great change in her life. She yearns for the land where the sky wails and rain explodes” he explained.   
      “You mean Finchley?” Peter asked. Aesop stared at him in confusion before the High King realized the Narnians knew nothing of their homeland.   
      “If Lucy misses home so much, then why doesn’t she just go sleep outside Tumnus’s door? He snores like an air raid siren” Edmund said. Susan shot him a glare.   
      “I suppose there’s only thing we can do, then. We have to go home” the gentle replied.   
      “We can’t just leave! Aslan entrusted us with Narnia, we can’t just walk away from it. We have a duty to uphold” Peter countered.   
      “What’s more important? Narnia or Lucy?” Susan shot back. Peter furrowed his brows, displeased with her response.   
      “I don’t think Lucy is going to want to leave even if it kills her” Edmund interrupted. The two elder siblings turned to him.   
      “What do you mean?” Peter asked.   
      “Well, think about it. Lucy was the first to find this place. She was the reason we all came here. Don’t you think she’d feel like she let us down if she admitted she wanted to go back home?” Edmund explained. Peter and Susan had to admit the just had a point.   
      “Well, how do we fix this, then?” Susan asked.   
      “I will” Aesop interjected. All eyes turned to him. “I am gifted in crafting many remedies. Grant me a few days and I will concoct something that ought to soothe the valiant’s soul and grant her the slumber she so needs.” Though the High King and gentle queen were still rather skeptical, they realized in that moment that they really didn’t have any other choice. Releasing a sigh, they both nodded and put their baby sister’s wellbeing in the centaur’s hands. 

* * *

     Edmund awoke late into the night at the mercy of his growling stomach. He squinted toward the clock in the corner of his room but could barely make out the time. Regardless of how late it was, though, nothing was going to stop him from grabbing a snack. He threw on his slippers, not even bothering to put them on the right feet, and scampered down to the kitchen but was taken aback when he heard a symphony of clanging and banging from inside.   
      The just king glanced around the hallway frantically, having left his sword up in his room, before eyeing a candlestick on a nearby table. He held it near his head like a bat, sucking in a deep breath, and burst through the door with a battle cry. The rump of a horse shown out from behind the pantry door. “Sh-show yourself, thief!” Edmund shouted. A clamor of food fell to the floor and the stranger backed up with her hands raised. A mysterious centaur stared back at him, face youthful and eyes large. She smiled at him awkwardly, slurping up the last of the noodle that was dangling from her mouth.   
      Edmund had seen quite a few centaurs since he arrived at the Cair but none quite so young and, dare he say, pretty as this one. He lowered the candlestick slowly before stammering out, “W-w-who are you? And what are you doing in the kitchen at an hour like this?”   
      The young centaur smirked and replied, “I should be asking the same of you. The name’s Nefyn.” Suddenly, everything made sense. Edmund’s mind snapped back to when Aesop first arrived, his mysterious apprentice following close behind.  
      “Nefyn…” he repeated. “Like…like Aesop’s apprentice Nefyn?”  
      “The one and only” she replied. “I am Aesop’s daughter, and his protege.”   
      “Oh…!” Edmund explained in great understanding.   
      “Now, your highness, if you don’t mind my asking” Nefyn continued, flipping her dark braid over her shoulder, “What exactly did you plan to do to me with that candlestick?”

* * *

     A soft whimpering floated down the hall and instantly captured Susan’s attention. She never meant to stay up quite so late but had recently found a rather riveting novel in the library that she couldn’t find the strength to put down. Or maybe she just needed the distraction. She wasn’t quite sure which excuse was correct. However, the quiet sound of distress was far more important to her than the plot of some silly book and she instantly marked her place and went searching for the source. As she scurried down the hall, the sound grew louder and louder until she happened upon Lucy’s chamber door. Susan sighed and slowly peered inside.   
      “Lucy? Lucy!” Susan whispered, rushing to Lucy’s bedside. The young girl tossed and turned in her sleep, trapped in the throes of a horrible nightmare. Susan gently held her shoulders and whispered her name harshly until the young queen stirred awake and dove into her sister’s arms.   
      “Oh, Susan, it was horrible!” she wailed. Hot tears fell upon Susan’s shoulder and rolled down the valiant’s cheeks.   
      “I know, it’s alright now, Lu. Everything is alright” Susan cooed. She leaned back to get a better view of her sister, brushing the hair from her face affectionately. “What was it this time?”   
      “I don’t want to talk about it” Lucy replied defiantly. “Just please let me stay up the rest of the night. I don’t think I’ll ever fall back asleep.”   
      Susan sighed and shook her head. “Lucy, if you don’t get a good night’s sleep soon, you’re going to make yourself sick” she replied. Her eyes darted to the bottle on the nightstand, picking it up and inspecting it. The liquid inside was a murky green and sloshed against the glass bottle violently, releasing an odor so toxic that Susan had to restrain herself from gagging. She plugged her nose and quickly put it back where it originally sat. “This is the fifth potion Aesop’s tried and nothing seems to be working. Come on, Lucy, can’t you please just tell us what all this is about?” Lucy hated keeping secrets from her siblings, even moreso when Susan appeared so distressed, but she still wasn’t sure she could speak of it. It was too lame.   
      The gentle queen eyed the valiant with great suspicion, like a mother who knows her child is hiding something. “Lucy, you used to tell me everything. Why should this be any different?”   
      “Because it’s too awful! I can’t talk about it!” Lucy shouted in muffled tones, burying her face in her pillow. Susan sighed.   
      “Lu, but we’re worried about you!” Susan replied. “We just want to help!”   
      Lucy paused a moment, and there was nothing but a tense silence as her sister gazed upon her desperately. Finally, the young queen slowly turned to look at her older sister with teary eyes. “You promise you won’t laugh?” Susan nodded enthusiastically. Lucy sucked in a deep breath, eyes averted, as she slowly shifted to sit up and drew her knees to her chest. “Alright. The reason…the reason I can’t sleep is because…well…Puppy.”  
      Susan cocked her head to the side, trying to comprehend what her sister meant. “You mean your stuffed dog?” Lucy nodded. Susan knew the toy well. It was a present from their father when Lucy was very young, a small plush dog that she had simply called Puppy and had grown very attached to. Over the years, their mother had to mend the holes and fill it with fresh batting when the cotton would fall out. Lucy had barely slept a night without it, except for the occasional instance in which she’d fall asleep on the couch listening to her favorite radio show and have to be carried off to bed, and Puppy would be left behind in the living room til early the next morning.    
      “I left him behind at the Professor’s. I didn’t think we’d end up living here, or else I would’ve brought him. But now I’ve forgotten him and I can’t go back to get him” Lucy explained. She twiddled her fingers nervously, obviously ashamed that she, a queen, couldn’t sleep because she missed her stuffed animal. Susan smiled back at her softly.   
      “I see. I wish there was something we could do, but I don’t know if we can get back” Susan replied.   
      “Even if we could, I wouldn’t want to. How do I know we’d ever be able to come back to Narnia if we left?” Lucy asked. That was perhaps her biggest fear: never returning to Narnia, leaving all of this splendor behind while they were trapped back in England. A shudder ran down her spine.   
      “That’s a good point, but let’s not worry about it too much now” Susan said, resting a reassuring hand on her sister’s shoulder. “But while we’re both awake, why don’t we go down to the kitchen and I can make us some hot chocolate?” she offered. Lucy’s face brightened, replying with a grin and an enthusiastic smile. 

* * *

     Down the hall, Peter tossed and turned, unable to sleep himself. There was too much flurrying through his head: his kingly duties, his sister’s affliction, his ignorance of a friend. He still had so much to learn and he still barely understood any of it. Narnian politics hardly made sense, partially because there were very few humans he was even governing. Every species needed to be catered to and happy. He could barely keep his family happy, let alone his country. He didn’t know why Lucy was acting the way she was but somehow he found a way to blame himself. Maybe he wasn’t paying her enough attention, maybe there was something the matter that she felt she couldn’t tell him. She could always come to him with her problems, and yet now he felt distant and out of touch. He was too busy for everyone he cared about: his brother, his sisters, Eilonwy. His heart ached for Eilonwy, the way he treated her, the way he’d been ignoring her. It wasn’t like he meant to be so cruel. He was simply frustrated. She understood, didn’t she?   
      Eilonwy rolled onto her side and gathered her blankets around her like a cocoon. She stared straight ahead into the darkness, mind cloudy with thought, as well. She, too, feared for Lucy and wanted her to be well. But she also feared for herself. Being back at Cair Paravel wasn’t getting any easier and she needed someone to console her. Edmund had been of some help but he didn’t know the extent of her trauma. Peter, however, did. But Peter was far too busy for her. Peter had enough on his mind. She didn’t want to bother him with her petty problems, even if she knew his company would make the transition so much easier. But then again, maybe Peter would understand. Maybe he’d be willing to hear her cries.   
      Suddenly overwhelmed by an intense energy, Peter threw back his covers and climbed out of bed. He needed to speak to Eilonwy. He needed the reprieve. He needed to know she was okay and, in turn, to be okay himself.   
      Eilonwy suddenly grew more and more desperate. She knew Peter didn’t want to speak to her but she needed to try. She needed to speak to him. Sitting up, she tied her hair back with a ribbon from the nightstand, tossed a robe over her nightdress, and burst out into the hallway.   
     The moment Peter swung the door open and stepped out of his chambers, he found Eilonwy had done the same just a few feet away. He watched her turn and face him and for a moment, their eyes met and a horrible electricity charged between them as they gravitated even closer toward one another.   
      “What are you doing up so late?” Eilonwy asked awkwardly once she grew nearer. All the confidence that had swelled inside her before had now completely deflated, eyes downcast and heart racing out of her chest.   
      “I just, uh, I’m…” Peter stammered. He wasn’t sure how to tell her all he had been feeling. Or at least not while he was looking at her. She was exactly the same and yet somehow looked vastly different than he remembered. She was thinner, bonier, her skin paler and her hair darker. She was like a ghost condemned to forever haunt the home in which she died. Finally, he broke. “I was looking for you” he said softly.   
      “Wait, what? Why?” she asked back in disbelief.   
      “I wanted to apologize. I wanted to say sorry for…for everything. I know I’ve been busy but…but it was wrong to ignore you and treat you the way I did. You don’t deserve that” he murmured.   
      “Oh…” she mumbled back. She had never expected to get an apology out of him. Now that she had, she wasn’t sure what exactly to do with it. She almost felt like he planned to say more, so she hesitated to reply, staring at different parts of the flooring where the tiles converged only to be met with silence.  
      The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment more, drenched in a maddening quiet that only escalated the magnetic tension they had for so long ignored between their bodies. Eilonwy’s lips itched in the same way they did that night of the coronation when they kissed on the dancefloor. She almost wanted to lean in and repeat the memory, but restrained herself. She didn’t see the same desire reflected in Peter’s eyes, or at least she didn’t think so. She never was the best at identifying these sorts of things.   
      Peter glanced at her a moment before finally breaking the unending silence. “I, uh… well, I was wondering…would you like to sneak down to the kitchen for a snack? There are some leftover rum cakes from the coronation we could have. Consider it part of my apology. I don’t exactly feel like I’ve done enough to make it up to you” he said. A small smile spread across Eilonwy’s lips.   
      “Sure” she replied and together they walked beside one another, fingers itching to interlace but never granting themselves the satisfaction. 

* * *

     Laughter echoed down the hallway as the young king and his new friend sat around the kitchen table and conversed. Edmund never expected to find a friend in the young centaur but through their late night meeting, discovered they had far more in common than either of them could’ve expected. Edmund had fixed a platter of snacks for the both of them to share, munching on cheese and crackers and fruits. The just king situated himself on one of the barstools near the counter as Nefyn hung out on the other side, leaning her elbows on the counter’s edge and crossing her legs casually.   
      “Wait a minute, wait a minute, shhh” Nefyn suddenly interrupted. She rose a finger to her lips and glanced to the doorway in a panic.   
      “What is it…?” Edmund asked quietly.   
      “I hear people coming” Nefyn whispered frantically. Edmund’s eyes widened, not wanting to be caught awake in the middle of the night, and began searching for a place to hide all their food on the platter. He wasn’t quick enough, however, and was instantly caught redhanded with a bushel of grapes hanging out of his mouth.   
      “Edmund?” a small voice called from the doorway. The young king whipped around to find Susan and Lucy, their eyes darting from Ed to his new friend and back. He pasted a crooked smile on his face before setting the platter back down and plucking the rest of the grapes from his mouth.  
      “Ed, what on earth are you doing?” Susan questioned.   
      “I was just, uh…having a midnight snack!” Edmund explained.   
      “And who is this…?” Susan replied.  
      “This is, uh…this is Nefyn. She’s…” he started but the centaur quickly interrupted.   
      “Miss Nefyn, your majesty. You called upon my father to help with Queen Lucy’s affliction” she introduced in a rather professional manner.   
      Lucy’s tired eyes lit up. “Oh, so you’re Aesop’s assistant! He’s told me many good things about you” she gushed.  
      “He often does…” Nefyn replied. Her tone spelled confidence but the blush on her cheeks negated that assumption.   
      “What are you two doing here?” Edmund then asked. The frantic look in his eyes gave Lucy all the information she needed to know and it took every ounce of her strength to restrain her laughter.   
      “Lucy couldn’t sleep so I offered to make her some hot chocolate” Susan said matter-of-factly.   
      “Well, I wouldn’t possibly want to get in your way, then, so I think I better just–” Nefyn began but Edmund quickly interrupted her.  
      “N-no, wait! Y-you don’t…you don’t have to go just yet!” he pleaded. The centaurette paused and eyed him curiously.   
      “Oh?” she asked.  
      Edmund nodded, eyes wide and desperate. “Please stay. Just for a little while longer?”   
      Nefyn glanced from Ed to his sisters, who were grinning widely at the two of them, and then back to Ed indecisively. “Well…I guess I could stay up for just a little while longer” she finally decided. A look of pure joy flashed across Edmund’s face before he quickly did his best to restrain his excitement. He knew exactly what his sisters were thinking and didn’t want to give them anymore ammunition than they already had.   
      Susan and Lucy glanced to each other with knowing smiles, Lucy opening her mouth about to speak but was immediately interrupted by yet another visitor.  
      “What’s all this?” Eilonwy asked from the doorway. Peter tagged close behind.  
      “I guess Lucy’s not the only one who couldn’t sleep” the High King added comically.   
      “Lucy had a nightmare so I offered to make her some hot chocolate but it turns out the kitchen was already occupied when we got here” Susan explained, floating toward the cabinets to retrieve a pair of mugs and some cocoa.   
      Peter nodded, eyes flashing from Edmund to his new friend suspiciously. “And who might this be?”   
      “I’m Nefyn, Aesop’s daughter” the centaurette spoke. Recognition flashed across both Peter and Eilonwy’s faces as they connected the dots. They, too, had not expected Aesop’s assistant to be a young girl such as herself. She couldn’t have been any older than thirteen, or at least the centaurian equivalent. To the uneducated, one might even think Nefyn was far too young to be Aesop’s daughter but Eilonwy knew better.   
      “Now what are you two doing down here?” Edmund asked.   
      “I came down here for a midnight snack as a reconciliation reward” Eilonwy explained.   
      “Reconciliation reward?” asked Susan.   
      Peter nodded. “There were some things I felt I needed to make up for in leftover rum cakes” he explained.   
      “Well, now that we’re all awake, we might as well make a party out of it!” Lucy exclaimed. Susan eyed her with the same expression a mother gives when she is displeased with their child’s ideas.   
      “You’re supposed to be getting to sleep, not getting riled up, Lu” she stated.   
      “Have my father’s potions not worked?” Nefyn asked curiously. Lucy shook her head. “Interesting…his latest concoction is his most potent yet. I wonder why it hasn’t worked for you” she pondered. Lucy shrugged, averting her eyes. She felt ashamed of herself for not responding to the medicine, even if it wasn’t really her fault. It’s not like she can control what does and doesn’t work on her body.   
      Edmund edged into the seat beside Nefyn with a smorgasboard of pears and cheese and assorted nuts, replacing their old platter which was nearly cleared away by now. The sweet scent of chocolate wafted through the kitchen as Susan presented her sister with a mug of piping hot cocoa and a small plate of ginger cookies, along with a serving for herself. Peter and Eilonwy sat close nibbling on rum cakes, still spongy from all the booze they had by now soaked up so much of. By the time they were finished, Eilonwy was restraining a bout of tipsy giggles and Peter was feeling wonderfully. Apparently Narnian rum cakes were far stronger than their London equivalents.  
     Their midnight meeting didn’t seem to last very long, however. In the midst of all their giggling and chatting, they failed to hear a set of hoofsteps venture down the stairs and into the doorway. It wasn’t until they were met with the deep grunt of a centaur clearing his throat that they all silenced and stood attention. Aesop stared at each of them in anger, focusing most of his fury on Nefyn more than anyone else. “Apparently no one in this kingdom sleeps” he stated bluntly.   
      “Papa!” Nefyn squeaked. Aesop shot her a glare.   
      “I hope you have some sort of explanation for all of this, Nefyn” he stated.  
      Nefyn averted her eyes, displeased with herself for disobeying her father’s orders. “I do not, other than I was simply satisfying the body’s natural call for nourishment. I didn’t anticipate the company” she explained softly.  
      “I see…” Aesop stated, arms crossed and staring the rest of the congregation down. Even Peter, the High King, felt intimidated by him. A shiver ran down Eilonwy’s spine. “Well, it is not my place to deny a child the relief of their hunger, but I cannot say I am pleased with the social aspect of your routine. An apprentice has no time for idle chatter. Remember that, Nefyn.”   
      “Yes, Papa” she replied quietly. And with that, she bowed her head to each of her new friends and rushed out the door. Edmund was taken aback by how different a girl she was around her father compared to Nefyn unsupervised. It was as if an unwavering tensity electrified her the moment he walked through the door, the kind of panic that comes with years of abuse. Quite frankly, Edmund wasn’t all too fond of the change but had no jurisdiction over the way a man raised his daughter.   
      Aesop glanced to each member of the group before bowing his head and bidding everyone a goodnight, spending an extra few seconds to eye Edmund threateningly. The moment he left the room, Edmund groaned and buried his face in his hands.   
     “That’s it. He hates me” he stated, voice muffled from behind his palms.  
     “What was all that about?” Peter questioned, confused.   
     “Edmund has a girlfriend!” Lucy exclaimed.   
     “W-what?! She is not my girlfriend!” Edmund panicked. “She’s just a friend…who happens to be a girl.”   
      “Of course” Susan replied, undertones of sarcasm poking through her voice. The just king’s face went beet red as he sunk further in his seat and groaned once more.   
      “It’s alright, Ed…” Lucy replied sleepily. “We can’t all fall for humans” she added, voice fading into a yawn at the end of her sentence.   
      “Alright, I think it’s about time someone went to bed” Susan replied, pushing the mugs and plate across the counter and scooping Lucy up in her arms.  
      “I think it’s about time we all got some sleep” Peter elaborated, glancing to Edmund and Eilonwy. Edmund simply nodded, face still red with sheer embarassment. A small smile touched Eilonwy’s lips as she rose and followed the High King out of the room, blowing out the candles and drenching the kitchen in pitch darkness.  
      Peter glanced through the doorway as he watched Susan kiss Lucy on the forehead and tuck her into bed. “I sure hope she gets some decent sleep tonight” Peter murmured. Eilonwy nodded from beside him.   
      “I do, too. She’s far too young to be this insomniatic” Eilonwy replied. She peered through the doorway and smiled softly at Lucy’s sleepy form. There was something she always loved about the inquisitive and kindhearted little queen. She hated to see her so troubled.   
      “You ought to get some sleep, too” Peter added, turning his attention to Eilonwy.  
      She nodded and replied, “If I can sleep at all. I’ve been having some rather awful nightmares lately.”   
      “I know” Peter said. Eilonwy furrowed her brows and cocked her head, confused. “Don’t you remember the other night?” he asked.  
      “What? No. Nothing happened the other night” she argued.   
      “Yes, something did” Peter replied. “You wandered into my office in the middle of the night just a few days, maybe a week, ago. You thought I was your father and panicked when you realized I wasn’t. I had to escort you back to bed and you collapsed in the hall.”   
      Eilonwy stared at him with wide eyes, shocked that her nightmare wasn’t just confined to her dreams. Her face flushed and her fingers tingled and she wanted nothing more than to just disappear. “Oh, well I-I’m sorry, then…” she finally replied quietly, voice hoarse.   
      Peter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I was kind of an ass about it at the time. I just want to make sure you’re alright” he said. He extended a hand to rest it upon her shoulder but she jerked away before his fingers could graze her skin. A nervous chuckle escaped her lips.  
      “I-I better get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, your majesty. Goodnight” she muttered then quickly turned on her heels and sped into her room. Peter watched her disappear with concern but before he could say anything of it, Susan emerged from Lucy’s bedroom and slowly shut the door.   
      “Everything alright in there?” Peter asked. Susan nodded.  
      “I think the hot chocolate really helped ease her nerves. She passed out almost immediately” she explained. The door to Eilonwy’s chamber quickly shut, causing Susan to peer toward it curiously. “Everything alright out here?”   
      “I suppose” Peter replied flippantly. Susan called his bluff immediately. “I’m just worried about Eilonwy. I think she’s been having a difficult time adjusting, as well.”   
      “Really? She seems so cool and collected” Susan replied. Peter shook his head.  
      “There are some things about her that she doesn’t really talk about that would make being at Cair Paravel far more difficult than you might expect” Peter said, but then brushed off the subject. “I don’t want to talk about it now, though. It’s conversation for another time.”   
      “Oh, okay…” Susan replied. She didn’t want to press Peter for information but his words sparked a great deal of interest in her. Perhaps it would explain much of Eilonwy’s strange behavior and shifting moods, trademark aspects since they first met that night in the woods.   
      “So, what about that Nefyn girl Ed was hanging around with? What’s with her?” Peter asked as he escorted Susan to her chambers.  
      “I don’t quite know. All I know is that she’s Aesop’s daughter and they seemed to be getting along swimmingly by the time Lucy and I got down there” Susan explained.   
      “She’s Aesop’s apprentice, right? Great doctor he is. Can’t even cure a little girl’s insomnia” Peter scoffed. Susan paused and jerked Peter back by the hand.  
      “That’s the thing, though. I found out why Lucy hasn’t been sleeping. It’s not because the potions aren’t working. It’s because she misses Puppy!” Susan explained excitedly. Peter could tell she was pleased to have finally cracked the code.  
      “You mean that toy dog Dad got her as a kid?” Peter asked.  
      Susan nodded. “Think about it, Pete: she’s hardly slept without it since birth. No wonder she hasn’t been able to sleep since we got here. She left him behind at the professor’s, never having expected for us to move and make a life here. Now that we have, she knows she certainly can’t go back to get him or else we may never come back at all” she explained, her voice rising in excitement the further she explained.   
      “Alright, so it’s like we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. So what do we do?” Peter asked.   
      “I have an idea” a voice then spoke from the void. Peter and Susan whipped around to find Edmund standing in the light filtering from his doorway, wide awake.  
      “I thought I told you to go to bed!” Susan exclaimed. Edmund wrinkled his nose at her.   
      “Well it’s kind of hard to sleep with you two babbling right outside my door” he snapped back.   
      “Lucy seems to be doing a fine job at it” Peter jested, cocking his head toward the youngest Pevensie’s door.  
      “Alright, well do you want to hear my idea or not? It’s for Lucy” Edmund replied. Peter and Susan sighed but urged him to proceed anyway. Edmund always did have a knack for solving problems and this was no exception.      “Maybe we should make her a replacement. You know, to fill the void.”   
The eldest two paused for a moment to consider his suggestion. It seemed to make a lot of sense, at least. It was just a question of whether Lucy would approve.   
“We could surprise her” Susan added. The two boys nodded in agreement, imagining the look of sheer delight on Lucy’s face when presented with a brand new plush of pure Narnian craftsmanship.   
“I guess now there’s just one thing left to do” Peter replied. “Find someone to commission.”   
~o~  
“This is impossible” Susan groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s been an entire week and I swear there is not one toymaker in the entire country who knows how to make a plush animal.” Peter sunk into the large armchair in the corner of his office.   
“Well, maybe she’d be fine with a wooden toy. She likes those, doesn’t she?” the High King offered. His words seemed hopeful but his tone proved halfhearted. He already knew the answer.   
“She does, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to want to cuddle one late at night” Edmund offered. Peter sighed and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Another groan erupted from Susan.   
“I’d offer to do it but the only sewing I can manage is mending holes” Eilonwy added. Not that I do a very decent job of even that, she thought to herself, eyes downcast toward the smattering of tears near the hem of her dress. It wasn’t her fault every one she stitched up just broke open time and time again.   
“What about outside the country?” Susan asked. “There has to be a toymaker in Archenland who can craft plushes.”   
“But what about the shipment fees?” Edmund replied. While his brother had been struggling to grasp much of the necessary concepts for kingship, Edmund picked up on the role of international finances and the like as if he was born with the knowledge. It was all very simple: anything imported automatically had a shipment fee attached for the delivery and handling. At least if it was Narnian-made, they wouldn’t have to travel across borders to receive it. Peter and Susan unanimously groaned and sighed once more.   
“Well, we can’t give up. Lucy needs this. Lucy needs us” Peter iterated. The others understood completely. There was no way they could disappoint the valiant queen. After all, she had been the backbone of their entire journey. None of them would be here if it weren’t for her. This was the least they could do. She deserved it.   
“Ed, gather up the gryphons again. Send them out to patrol again in search of any toymakers we might’ve missed” Peter finally ordered. Edmund nodded and exited the room.   
“I better go check on Lucy. By now she’s probably made herself sick with sleeplessness” Susan replied. She shot the High King a hopeless gaze before sneaking out behind her younger brother, leaving Peter alone with the huntress.  
The pair stood there in tense silence for a few unending moments, the longest they had been alone together since the night nobody slept. Eilonwy’s eyes darted toward the doorway repeatedly, contemplating whether she should just slip out or actually say something. Finally, Peter broke the silence.   
“Ugh, why does this have to be so difficult?” he erupted. Eilonwy jumped, startled by the sudden outburst, then recoiled a few paces toward Peter’s desk.  
“I-I wish there was some way I could help. Something I could do” the huntress replied.   
“Don’t worry about it” Peter sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands as if trying to wake himself up, then stood and slowly approached Eilonwy and his desk behind her. “It’s not your fault.”   
“I know, but–” she started.   
“How have you been sleeping?” he interrupted. Eilonwy stammered a moment before shaking her head.  
“I’ve been alright. I should be the least of your worries, honestly” she said back. Peter nodded slowly, index finger grazing the pages strewn across his desk. “Listen, Peter, it seems like you’ve got a lot of work to do here and I don’t want to distract you any further. You know where to find me if you need me” she said, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. She wasn’t great with comfort but felt some gesture of the sort was fitting. A soft smile spread across Peter’s face as he watched her walk away, then sunk into his office chair and tossed his head back with a desperate sigh.

* * *

A light knock at the door stirred Eilonwy conscious from her nightmares, blinking awake from her cocoon of heavy blankets. A fine layer of sweat coated her forehead.   
“Your highness? It’s Miss Hattie” a small voice called from the other side of the door. With a grunt, Eilonwy hoisted herself from her bed and trudged over to the doorway, swinging it open with tired eyes. “Oh! Y-your highness, you look frightful!” Hattie exclaimed, stamping her hooves nervously. Eilonwy simply hummed and motioned for her to enter.   
“What is it this time, Hattie? Come to ‘mend and launder’ my dresses again?” Eilonwy asked with great snark.   
“Actually…” the faun started. “Tumnus requested I perform a brief wellness check, ensure you’re doing alright. He’s noticed you’ve seemed rather…lethargic as of late.”   
Lethargic. The term made Eilonwy vastly uncomfortable, although it wasn’t completely inaccurate. Rolling her eyes, Eilonwy replied, “Listen, tell Tumnus not to be concerned. I’m fine. If he should worry about anyone, it should be Lucy.”   
Hattie furrowed her brows and cocked her head to the side. “The Valiant Queen? If you don’t mind my asking, your highness, what is the trouble with her?”   
The huntress sighed as she turned to her vanity and sloppily tied her hair back. “She’s having trouble sleeping. I don’t know, the kings and queen would give you a far better explanation than I ever could. All I really know is that there’s this plush puppy she left behind at home– in her own world– that she’s having trouble sleeping without. The kings and queen have searched far and wide for a toymaker experienced in creating such things but have found no such luck. All the Narnians know how to make are wooden dolls and rocking horses which are all fine and dandy, no doubt, but not exactly the kind of toy one would want to cuddle late into the night” she explained.  
“Ah, I see…” Hattie replied. By now she had waded around Eilonwy’s back and was helping her fasten the buttons up her back. For the first time, somehow Eilonwy didn’t seem to mind. Her usual aggravation with such things had apparently disintegrated. For now.   
Hattie and Eilonwy stood there in silence for a short while, the huntress running her fingers over the clutter on her vanity while Hattie worked nimbly at fastening her dress. Eilonwy couldn’t help but feel a sense of expectancy, as if Hattie had wished to say more but couldn’t untangle the words from within her throat. The huntress’s intuition was correct, however, when the faun finally broke the silence.  
“You know, your highness…I, uh…I know how to knit. If it would so please your majesties, I may…well, I may be able to knit the Valiant Queen a replacement” Hattie offered shyly. The moment the words left her lips, Eilonwy’s face lit up. She whipped around with a shriek of joy, taking the faun by the shoulders and grinning wildly. Hattie looked upon her with terror, having never seen the maiden express so much unadulterated joy before.   
“Oh, would you?! Could you?!” Eilonwy shouted with glee. Hattie nodded quickly, terrified. Another shriek erupted from the huntress as she embraced Hattie tightly, trapping her in her clutch, before sending her tumbling upon release. “I have to go alert the others. Hattie, you’re a dear!” Eilonwy shouted, barrelling out of the room and down the hallway. She could only imagine the looks of pure relief and joy her news would bring to the kings’ and queen’s faces. 

* * *

Moonlight illuminated the servant’s courtyard as Hattie dilligently worked her knitting needles. It was one of those warm spring nights when the air smells fresh and dew coats the grass and there’s not a cloud in the sky. Vegetables were just beginning to sprout in the garden surrounding as fresh, juicy fruits formed on tree branches. A tangle of canary yellow and gold yarn sat upon the table like a mess of spaghetti, strands spooled inward by nimble needles. Hattie was so focused on her work that she scarcely heard the kitchen’s backdoor swing open and a disheveled Tumnus stumble into the moonlight.   
“Hattie!” he exclaimed, not expecting to find company. “W-w-what are you, uh, doing out here?”   
Hattie’s eyes widened and her face blushed as she turned to face her supervisor. “Just getting some fresh air, is all!” she quickly replied. She huffed a lock of hair off her forehead and grinned nervously. Suspicious eyes glanced from the maid to the yarn on the table and back.  
“What’s all that?” Tumnus asked, pointing to her mess.   
“Oh, this? This is just a project I’m working on. A little knitting never hurt anyone, eh?” she said. Tumnus still wasn’t totally convinced she wasn’t up to something but at this late hour, he was far too tired to care. With a sigh, he slumped into a nearby chair and let his limbs hang as if he was a puddle of a man.   
“While you’re at it, Hattie, you ought to knit me a gigantic, fluffy blanket because I need a nap” Tumnus sighed. Hattie could tell he was terribly tired: his face was paler than she remembered, there were bags under his eyes, and his hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a month. Not that his hair was ever really all that neat to begin with, messy hair being a species trademark for fauns in general, but Tumnus’s hair had currently reached the point to where it looked like he had a giant burr growing from his head.   
“Exhausting job, I assume?” Hattie inquired. Tumnus nodded. “Well, Tumnus, I would knit you a blanket if I could but I’m horribly busy at the moment. I’m working on a project for the queen herself.”   
“Queen Susan?” Tumnus asked. Susan seemed, to him, like the most plausible option though even he wasn’t sure of his own assumption.  
Hattie shook her head. “The Valiant” she simply stated. Tumnus’s eyes widened.   
“Little Lucy?” he asked. Hattie nodded, eyes locked on her work.   
“Lady Eilonwy confided in me of a certain dilemma her majesty was struggling with and I offered to help. Apparently Queen Lucy has been unable to sleep due to the loss of a cherished toy left behind in her own world. When I heard of her majesty’s affliction, and the kings and queen’s struggle to find a toymaker gifted in crafting plushes, I decided the least I could do was help, so that’s what I’m doing now” Hattie explained.   
Tumnus leaned forward onto the table, eyes wide, and huffed in exasperation. “I suppose I have been rather busy…” he muttered to himself. A wave of guilt washed over him, having never even noticed Lucy’s troubles. He was so preoccupied with directing servants here and there that the kings and queens weren’t exactly his prime focus. But now Lucy, the little girl from a strange world who had caused such a change in his life, was ill and he had had no idea. Not only did he feel like a terrible advisor but he felt like an even worse friend. “How long has this been going on?” was all he could manage to ask.   
Hattie shook her head. “I’m not sure. Lady Eilonwy said nothing of it. By her utter relief at my offer, though, I can assume quite a while.”   
Tumnus sighed and buried his face in his hands. He could just picture her sitting up in bed, face pale and eyes dark, dozing off only to snap back awake again. He hated to think of Lucy trapped in such an endless, unpleasant cycle. As he sat there imagining it, though, the scene suddenly changed. Rather than her bed in Cair Paravel, she was sitting in a chair in his own home. A fire crackled beside her as her teacup tipped and spilled across the carpet. Fauns danced in the flames. An epiphany.   
Hattie shrieked with surprise as her supervisor leapt from his chair and screamed, “I’ve got it!” There was a sudden madness in his eyes– or was it brilliance?– that, quite frankly, scared the young maid. She peered up at the faun curiously as she awaited an elaboration. Tumnus jolted closer, grasping Hattie’s hands in his, and grinned. “Hattie, dear, I have the most wonderful idea. You must let me help you. I can save Queen Lucy from her troubles." 

* * *

"This is splendid, Hattie! I guarantee Lu will love it” Susan gushed, turning the finished toy over in her hands. Gold flecks in the yarn glinted in the sunlight, a bushy mane framing a familiar face. Susan ran her fingers down his back, memories of the real Aslan sparking in her brain.   
“There has to be some way we can repay you” Edmund replied. Peter nodded from his desk, glancing from the young faun to his brother and back.   
“Oh, that’s really not necessary. It was no trouble at all. Anything for a queen of Narnia” Hattie replied softly, eyes downcast. She had never had a private meeting with the kings and queens before and though they were perfectly lovely people, she still couldn’t help but feel nervous. After all, they were like local celebrities.   
Eilonwy patted the faun on the back and grinned widely. “So, did I deliver or did I deliver? Aren’t you glad I got involved here?” she asked proudly. Susan rolled her eyes and held the plush close to her chest. Peter shook his head with an airy laugh.   
“Thank you, Eilonwy, for having recruited Hattie for doing such a wonderful thing” Peter stated as he stood and approached the two. He met them with a smile, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. A slight blush fell across both their cheeks, one of affection and the other of anxiety.   
“I guess we ought to go present this to Lu now. There’s really no use in waiting any longer” Susan stated. She rose from her seat and glided toward the doorway, glancing to Tumnus standing behind the maid. “Have you got your flute, Tumnus?” The faun smiled and held it up excitedly. Susan nodded in approval. “Alright then. Let’s get to it.”   
The congregation barrelled down the hallway together, Peter at the lead, toward Lucy’s bedroom. The door was just barely creaked open but from inside, they could hear the low drone of Aesop’s voice interrogating the young queen about her affliction.   
“Mind if we intrude a moment?” Peter asked with a knock on the door. Aesop grumbled and motioned for them to enter. “How are you feeling, Lu?” the High King asked, rushing to his baby sister’s bedside. She smiled tiredly and shook her head.  
“I feel awful, Peter. I’m so upset” she said back.   
“Why are you upset?” Edmund asked, standing at the foot of her bed.   
“Because I’ve caused so much trouble! I’ve been a horrible queen. I haven’t helped with anything. I can’t help rule a country, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I can’t seem to do anything!” Lucy explained. She drew her knees up to her chest and sighed, shoulders drooping and face pale.   
“Lu, please don’t be upset with yourself” Susan begged, taking her baby sister’s hand in hers. “We never expected you to adjust overnight. Even we are still having trouble getting used to all this. We may have a lot of responsibilities but our number one priority right now is taking care of you.”   
The valiant smiled softly, so grateful to have such wonderful family that cared for her as much as they did. “Well, thank you all so much. I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again but it makes me feel better knowing how much you all care.”   
“And while we’re on the subject of you sleeping, I think we might have found something that could help” Peter announced. He rose from his place beside Lucy and ushered Hattie and Tumnus forward, both hiding their gifts behind their backs. Lucy looked to the maid with confusion but gazed upon Tumnus with nothing but sheer happiness.   
“Hello, Lucy Pevensie” he greeted her softly.   
“Tumnus!” she shrieked with joy. “What have you been doing? It’s like I haven’t seen you in ages!”   
“I’m so sorry, Lucy. It seems that in all the hustle and bustle of running the castle, I’ve forgotten to pay any mind to you. But I hope to help you feel better, if you’ll let me. We both do…” he said, glancing to Hattie. Lucy turned her gaze to the female faun, cocking her head to the side.  
“G-Good afternoon, your majesty. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Hattie, one of the maidservants. Eilonwy told me of your troubles and–and I offered to help in the best way that I could think of. So, um, I know this might not be perfect b-but I hope it’ll manage alright…unless you don’t like it then that’s perfectly fine, too! But, anyways, uh….here you are, your majesty” Hattie stammered until finally she pulled the plush from behind her back, presenting it with shaking hands.   
Lucy’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, a little knit lion who reminded her so much of such a close friend. “It’s an Aslan!” she gasped, pulling the lion close and hugging it tightly. Everything about it made her heart sing, especially the fact that her siblings and friends would go to such trouble to make her happy. “Thank you so much! I’ll name him Aslan the Second and I promise, I’ll love him forever!” she exclaimed.   
A massive grin spread across Hattie’s face, cheeks turning bright red. She giggled softly and dug her hooves into the floor, shyly, muttering a soft, “You’re very welcome” before backing away so Tumnus could step forward and present his own gift.   
“When Hattie told me of your troubles, I honestly panicked. I felt terrible for having had no idea that you were so troubled. You’re a very dear friend to me, Lucy Pevensie, and I don’t ever wish anything horrible upon you. But when I heard of your sleeplessness, it reminded me of something. Do you remember the very first time we met?” Tumnus said. Lucy nodded. “I realized that the day we met and you came to my house for tea, I put you to sleep with my flute and I figured, well, if it worked then, then perhaps it will work now, as well.”   
“Oh, a lullaby!” Lucy exclaimed. The faun nodded, revealing the pan flute from behind his back and raising it to his lips. From the moment he played the very first note, the vibe of the entire room instantly shifted. What once was occupied by a tense frustration was immediately replaced by a resounding calm, a weighty tranquility like the kind you feel when you slide into a giant, warm bath.   
The tune Tumnus played was unlike anything the other Pevensies had ever heard before. It was equally haunting and alluring, coating their bodies in a welcome lethargy. Soon Lucy’s eyelids began to droop and she slid into the embrace of her many pillows. Aesop raised a brow as he watched, displeased that this of all things was actually working. Nefyn, however, was completely entranced, standing by her father’s side pausing in her organization of varying medicine bottles. The young centaurette had never seen anything quite like this– granted, she had never really associated with fauns before and therefore knew little of their culture. More than anything, though, Nefyn was pleased to see the young queen finally gaining relief. Her father shot her a glare and motioned for her to exit the premises with him, to which she dutifully obeyed, wheeling a cart of glass bottles and bundled herbs out with her.   
The more Tumnus played, the sleepier everyone else found themselves becoming, as well. The faun glanced over his shoulder to Hattie and motioned for her to escort everyone else out of the room and to their chambers, expecting them to endure a long but pleasant nap, as well. Hattie nodded once in agreement, guiding everyone through the door and into the hallway. Edmund muttered something inaudible as he fought to keep his eyes open, nearly walking into the wall as he trudged off to his bed. Even in sleep, Susan glided gracefully toward her own room as if she was mist upon a lake on an early winter morn. As they traversed further down the hallway, however, Eilonwy proved to be the most inappropriate of them all. She stumbled over her own two feet and swayed two and fro, mumbling nonsense and overall making a mess of herself. And then she swayed too far to the right and bumped into Peter, who was just in the middle of a yawn, but Eilonwy didn’t swerve away. Instead, she sighed softly and proceeded to rest her head on his shoulder. Peter released a quiet gasp at the motion but by now was far too tired to care. Instead he simply wrapped an arm around her shoulder and patted it nicely before Hattie stopped them at the end of the hall. A knowing smile touched her lips as she guided them to their own rooms, restraining her laughter at how adorable they both were.   
Eilonwy fell face first into her bed, limbs hanging over the edge. Hattie didn’t dare move her. She whispered a quiet “goodnight” before blowing out the candle and entrenching the young maiden in absolute darkness. 

* * *

“Come on, Lu, you’re going to miss them!” Susan shouted up the staircase. Lucy took one last glance at herself in the mirror, fixing her crown upon her head, before darting out of her bedroom. Edmund barrelled past her, nearly knocking her to her feet, to which the valiant queen huffed and narrowed her eyes but she’d get back at him later. Now was not the time to start an argument.   
Oreius stamped his feet as he helped load Aesop and Nefyn’s luggage onto their ship. It was much smaller than the Pevensie’s Splendor Hyaline but it was more than enough room for the two centaurs, a small crew, and all their supplies.   
“Thank you, again, for everything you’ve done” Susan replied kindly, extending a hand for a shake. Aesop eyed it a moment, confused as to what she expected him to do with it. Apparently handshakes still weren’t really a common thing in Narnia.   
“Not that anything I tried helped” Aesop replied sourly. Susan lowered her hand slowly, unsure if she should be offended or not. Seeing the uncertainty on the queen’s face, however, Nefyn quickly jumped in at her father’s defense.   
“What I believe my father meant was that we were glad to be of service to you, your majesties, and we’re happy to see Queen Lucy is well again” the centaurette said. Just then, Edmund skidded to a halt beside his brother and sister on the dock, face red and dewy from running. Or at least partially from running. Lucy followed soon after.   
“Edmund, I’ve never seen you run so fast for anything that didn’t involve food before” Lucy jested with a chuckle. Edmund shot her a quick glare.  
“I didn’t want to miss them leaving!” he replied. Then, turning to Nefyn, he asked, “Do you really have to leave so soon?”   
“I’m afraid so” she replied. “There’s been some sort of infection spreading across Galma that requires our assistance. If we don’t leave soon, far too many people could die.”   
Aesop nodded gravely. “Which is why we cannot waste any more time with goodbyes” he added. Nefyn cringed at her father’s blunt delivery.   
“Well, when do you think I’ll see you again?” Edmund asked.   
Nefyn shrugged and sadly smiled back at him. “I cannot say, but I can hope that one day the stars shall align and we shall see each other again.” She placed a tender hand on his shoulder and bowed before him, brief but meaningful, before following her father onto the ship.   
“You’re certainly welcome to visit us in Narnia whenever you wish” Peter said, nodding and watching them board. Lucy sidled up to Peter, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, before tugging at the hem of Peter’s tunic. “What is it, Lu?”   
“Don’t you think we ought to go with them?” she asked quietly.   
Susan, overhearing, turned to her sister in confusion. “What for?”   
“Well,” Lucy began, “If there’s some sort of sickness on Galma, and I have my cordial, don’t you think it’s my duty to help them? I’d hate to see so many people die when I have a cure right at my hip.”   
Peter glanced from Lucy to the ship and back with a sigh. He could see Lucy’s point but at the same time, he knew nothing of this infection or it’s severity. The last thing he wanted was to put his own family in danger by venturing to a country riddled with disease. “Listen, Lu, we’ll talk about it later, alright?” he finally said. Lucy furrowed her brows and pursed her lips in displeasure but again, this was not the time to argue.   
Aesop and Nefyn stood upon the deck of their ship, waving goodbye as one of their crew raised the anchor and the captain directed the boat east. Something heavy weighed on Edmund’s chest watching them depart, a great yearning he had only ever felt twice before. He knew there was nothing he could do, however, and forced himself to make do with the situation at hand. After all, “goodbye” didn’t mean “goodbye forever.” He’d see Nefyn again someday…hopefully. With shoulders drooped, he watched Nefyn wave goodbye from the stern as they grew closer to the horizon, the hint of a sly smile across her face. Edmund shoved his hands into his trouser pockets in defeat only to find something strange and unfamiliar tangle in his fingers. He pulled it out carefully, turning it over in his hands.   
“What’s that?” Lucy asked, peering over to sneak a peek.   
“I-I don’t know…” Edmund murmured. He swore the thing hadn’t been in his pocket earlier.   
“Looks like a friendship bracelet” Eilonwy added. “Common centaur practice. Tokens of friendship, affection, and gratitude.”   
Suddenly it all made sense. Edmund looked up from the bracelet, the little strip of green and gray woven cloth, to the ship as it disappeared on the horizon. Nefyn. “That little sneak…” Edmund whispered to himself, chuckling softly. He turned his attention back to the bracelet, smiling down at it as he tried to fasten it to his wrist.   
Lucy glanced from Edmund to the ship and back, suddenly comprehending what was happening. Her eyes illuminated at the realization and, without filter, she shrieked happily, “You do like her!”


	4. VOL 1, EP. 3: Outbreak, Part One

      Through dusty windowpanes, glass blue eyes absorbed the stretch of sea expanding before her, waves lapping against the shore and gulls cawing overhead. All that lies beyond the horizon is a mystery, but the valiant knows all too well of the horror hidden behind it. In the back of her mind, she sees blood churning into the sea, turning waves of blue into vicious red swells. Bodies dappled with buboes loaded into carts like fresh crops, sweaty brows and shaky hands and strained pleas for help, wailing children standing in the midst of hell itself. The quill fell from her hand and rolled onto the floor with a splattering of ink.

* * *

     “Queen Lucy!” a stern voice shouted, stirring the queen from her illusions. “I am not here to babble at the air so if you would please pay attention to your lessons…!” the disgruntled faun commanded. Lucy’s cheeks went bright red as she frantically retrieved her quill and continued her notes, the nightmarish visions always at the back of her mind.   
      “Parcels for the Pevensies!” Hermes announced, swooping upon the balcony with saddlebags of letters strapped to his back. The young kings and queens rushed forward to retrieve their mail, Edmund’s face lighting up at the sight of his very own message.   
      “Word from Nefyn?” Susan asked, cocking a brow. Edmund blushed and scowled at his sister.   
      “For your information, I like having a pen pal. And that’s all she is: a _pal_ ” Edmund corrected.  
      “Whatever you say, Ed. Just inform us of the wedding date” Peter jested. His brother shot him a glare and lightly punched him in the shoulder before retreating inside to read his letter in private. However, Lucy watched him disappear with great focus as if she was deeply interested in what the centaurette had to say.   
      “Hey, Lu? Are you okay? You’ve been awfully distracted these days” Susan questioned. Snapping back to reality, Lucy gasped and nodded vigorously.   
      “Oh, yes! I’m fine, thanks. Just been thinking a lot, I guess” she replied.   
      “I’ll say. I heard Professor Arcadian harping at you earlier” Peter added.  
      “He’s a very unpleasant faun…” Lucy said quietly.   
      “I wouldn’t be surprised if he thwacked you right on the head one of these days for not paying attention. What were you even thinking about in there, anyways?” said Peter. Lucy averted her eyes and clasped her hands together tightly. The High King could tell she didn’t quite want to say but that made him even more concerned. Lucy had gotten into a very bad habit of keeping secrets these days and he was not fond of it at all.   
      “Lucy, you know we won’t get mad at you, whatever it is that’s bothering you” Susan reassured. The valiant queen sighed and turned her attention to the ocean beyond.   
      “I guess I’ve just been thinking an awful lot about Galma” she said, tone soft and cautious. Ever since Aesop and Nefyn had left a fortnight earlier, Galma was all she could think about. She had no clue what kind of sickness had taken hold of the island but she felt disgustingly compelled to help in whatever way possible. How could she live with herself knowing she had the cure to every sickness and injury right at her hip, yet stood idly by while people were dying? Her hand lightly grazed the cordial strapped to her belt.   
      “Lucy, we can’t go and you know that” Peter stated. “What about our own health? We can’t risk getting sick, too. The best thing is to just let Aesop and Nefyn do whatever it is they do over there and we keep to our corner.”   
      “But I don’t want to keep to my corner! We have to help them!” Lucy countered, whipping around to face her brother. He could see the desperation glossing over her eyes, her indescribable need to heal. Not even that could convince Peter otherwise.   
      “Lucy, it’s too dangerous. I’m saying no, end of story” he stated. His voice was hard and firm but Susan could sense the underlying waver in his tone. He really didn’t want to be so harsh with her but at the same time, he was the High King. He had a duty to uphold and that included protecting his family from whatever may come their way.   
      The youngest Pevensie pursed her lips, eyes welling with tears, as she clenched her fists at her side. “People are dying, Peter” was all she murmured before pushing past both him and Susan and rushing inside.   
      “Well that was nicely handled” Susan retorted, gathering her skirts and rushing after her sister. Bursting through the double doors, she passed a rather confused Eilonwy on her way to the balcony.   
      “I take it I missed something here?” she asked the moment she reached Peter. He nodded. “What was it this time?”   
      “Lucy wants to go to Galma” he replied, leaning against the railing. The sea was so vast and unforgiving, the blues of it reflected in the High King’s tired eyes.   
      “And you won’t let her” Eilonwy added. Peter nodded. “Reasonable enough, I presume. She’s young, they’re deadly. It’s only natural to want to protect her.”   
      “Exactly!” Peter exclaimed. “Why doesn’t she see that? Why am I the bad guy here when all I want is her safety? She’s very ‘throw caution to the wind’, you know.”   
      Eilonwy nodded, slowly gliding up beside the king to rest her elbows on the railing. “What would happen to all of them?” she asked, staring off into the distance. Peter sighed.  
      “I don’t know. Death, I guess” he mumbled. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t even know why it upset him so much. After all, it wasn’t his country. They weren’t his people. Galma was an entire nation on their own that Peter and his siblings had no jurisdiction over. It wasn’t his duty to care for them. Yet he hated the fact that deep down, he did care. “You know, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”   
      “You started it” Eilonwy said back, a slight chuckle in her voice. She turned her back to the sea and rested it against the railing, staring through the double doors into the great room. Peter furrowed his brows at her and shook his head.  
       “You know, you are irritatingly collected” he replied.   
       “Good. That means I’m succeeding in deceiving you” she said and with that, sauntered off into the castle to leave Peter on a cliffhanger.

* * *

     “So, Ed” Susan started at dinner that night. “What did Nefyn have to say? Anything you’re able to exploit without revealing the secret nature of your romance?” The rest of the table softly chuckled. Edmund’s cheeks grew red.  
      “For the last time, we are just friends! Nothing more, nothing less. And as for whatever she’s said, I’m sorry I can’t tell you” the just replied.   
      “And why not? Is it too inappropriate? Are you exchanging mushy love letters back and forth?” Lucy teased. Edmund groaned and rolled his eyes.   
      “Listen, Lu, of all the people who shouldn’t know the content of the letter, you should be kept from it most of all” her brother stated. A strange look crossed Lucy’s face, one of confusion and shock but not exactly rooted in any specific emotion. One couldn’t quite tell whether she was offended or if his words further piqued her curiosity.   
       After a few moments of awkward silence, the littlest Pevensie finally spoke up. “Fine, then” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair. “I don’t need to know anyways. Your relationship is none of my business, after all.” Edmund bit his lips, turning his eyes back to his food. He hated seeing Lucy so…whatever she was but knew she’d be even more upset had she known the things Nefyn told him. She wasn’t ready to hear such harsh words yet. The rest of the dinner was met with silence. 

* * *

     A knock on the door. “Peter? Might I come in for a moment?”   
      The High King looked up from his papers, eyes bloodshot and sleepy, and ushered his guest inside. He didn’t really care who it was– he was too tired to identify the voice– but instantly perked up when he saw none other than Eilonwy enter the room. The moment she stepped inside, he sat up a little straighter and attempted to groom the hair out of his face. No matter what he tried, he still looked like a mess.   
      “Burning the midnight oil, I presume?” Eilonwy stated with a smirk, sinking into the nearby corner chair. Peter chuckled and shrugged.   
      “I suppose. I swear, there are never enough hours in the day to go through so much paperwork” he replied. Eilonwy leaned forward to take a look at some of them but Peter instantly snatched them away. “Excuse you, that is confidential information restricted to the kings and queens.”   
      “Sorry, Mr. Bossypants. I suppose my former royal title bears no significance on the situation, then?” she shot back. Peter sighed and shook his head.   
“No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. Your title went defunct a hundred years ago.” Though his words seemed harsh, his tone was playful and Eilonwy took no offense. Or at least she tried not to.   
      Rolling her eyes, she leaned back in her chair and replied, “You’d think so many years of experience would be quite the asset to a child king such as yourself. Maybe I’d be of more use to Lune in Archenland?”   
      “You would go to Archenland?” Peter asked. Eilonwy nodded.  
      “If they needed me over there more, then perhaps, yes.”  
      “You wouldn’t leave.”   
      “How can you be so sure?”   
      “Well…well, because!” Peter stammered. “Because you belong here, in Narnia. You’re Narnian by blood and by title and so this is where you should be.”   
      “By a title that went defunct a hundred years ago, right?” she replied snarkily.   
      “…Very funny” Peter said back, exasperated. After a few moments of quiet, he added, “Would you really ever leave?”   
      Eilonwy shrugged. “As it currently stands, I’ve got no place else to go. The Beavers dam is basically kindling by now. Tumnus’s place is off the market. There’s really no place else I could see myself retreating to and after all, what could compare to a palace like this? Nothing in the world. So for now, I’ll stay put” she explained. Peter captured a hint of sadness in her voice, as if she was only halfheartedly saying such things, but knew better than to ask of it.   
      With eyes downcast, he simply nodded and replied quietly, “Well, we certainly like you here. I like you here.” Eilonwy shot him a glare of disbelief. “Truly, I do. If it wasn’t for you, Lucy would probably be deathly ill from sleeplessness. I never did say thank you for what you did a few weeks ago.”    
      “It was nothing, really” she murmured. “Just so happened to be in the right place at the right time, I suppose.”   
      “But it’s not nothing, Eilonwy. Without you, Lucy never would’ve gotten the relief she so desperately needed. You cured her and I will always be grateful to you for that” Peter replied.   
      Uncomfortable with the praise, Eilonwy tucked her hair back behind her ear and shook her head, eyes set on the floor. “I was only the messenger. It’s really Hattie and Tumnus you should be thanking. They’re the ones who did all the hard work. I was just the recruiter, so to speak. I don’t deserve any recognition.”   
      Peter rolled his eyes, growing frustrated. Why couldn’t she just accept the compliments he was feeding her? She deserved to know she did a good thing and that he and his siblings appreciated her for it. But then again, it was getting late and the last thing he wanted was to argue.   
      “What are you going to do about her, anyways?” Eilonwy replied.   
      “About who?” Peter asked.  
      “Lucy.”   
      “What about her?”   
      “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re _that_ dense, Peter. Galma?”   
      Peter sighed and tossed his head back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Not you, too” he groaned. “Listen, I’ve made my decision. We’re not going. Lucy can complain all she wants but I can’t risk her or any of the rest of us getting sick or worse…” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence for Eilonwy to know what else he meant to say.   
      “I understand your concern but isn’t this a little childish?” she countered. “This won’t be the first time something like this happens and you need to decide what you’re going to do from a kingly perspective before something else arises. Peter the brother says 'Stay for the safety of my family’ but what does Peter the king have to say?”  
      “The same exact thing!” Peter replied.   
     “You’re not thinking politically” Eilonwy spat. “Galma is in distress. It’s been in distress for decades. Once Narnia went under, Galma had no one to follow. They broke off from us long ago and we’ve had severed ties ever since. They’re a struggling nation, impoverished. Many of their people tried to get into trade with the other islands in hopes of boosting the economy but the grounds are rather infertile so all they can really manage are textiles and livestock, which even then aren’t that great. This epidemic was years in the making, the result of poor living conditions and life dealing them a shitty hand. So you basically have two options here, Peter Pevensie. You can choose to either help them and restore Galma’s relations with Narnia or you can ignore them, let everyone die, and forever be known to the Galmans as a careless, selfish fool whose help they didn’t need anyways. You can take your time choosing which one of these people you want to be but you better choose fast and choose wisely because unlike many other things, this is actually a matter of life or death. Think about it.” And with that, Eilonwy rose and exited the room, leaving Peter to drown in her thick, honest words. Little did she know, however, he wasn’t the only one who heard her. 

* * *

     “Hey, Peter, have you seen Lucy?” Susan inquired the next morning. “I’ve searched everywhere for her but haven’t been able to find her.”   
      “She wasn’t asleep?” Peter questioned. He knew his sister well enough to know she was an early riser but still, a tiny thread of him hoped she was still catching up on all the hours she had missed not so long ago during her bout of insomnia. Susan shook her head.  
      “Her bed was made as perfectly as ever.”   
      “Maybe she went out riding” Edmund replied, waltzing into the room with his breakfast.   
      “Have you checked the stables?” Peter asked Susan. The gentle averted her eyes and shook her head.  
      “Alright, well that’s the one place I haven’t looked but how do you know her horse won’t be there?” she replied, glancing to her brothers.   
      “I don’t” Edmund replied as he bit into his pancake. “I just assume that it’s a beautiful day outside, the weather is nice, maybe she’d want to go on a morning ride.”  
      “Smart choice that would be, a little girl alone out in the woods. If she was to have gone riding, why didn’t she tell any of us? Or at least leave a note?” Peter muttered.   
      “Again, check the stables” Edmund replied. Susan shot Edmund a glare and rolled her eyes, feeling as if his sass was rather inappropriate for the current circumstances, before rushing off down the hallway. Peter followed suit.   
      The stables were just as they always were with horses braying and neighing and nibbling on oats. Besnik, Peter’s unicorn, stamped his hooves against the hay scattered across the ground.   
      “We should go out looking for her” Peter suggested, petting the unicorn’s muzzle. Just as Susan opened her mouth to speak, however, the sound of hooves approached from behind. Filled with hope, both whipped around with exclamations of _Lucy!_  
      “Morning” an underwhelming voice greeted. “Lovely morning, yeah?” Eilonwy hopped from her mare’s back, leading Everlast into her pen.   
      “What are you doing here?” Susan inquired.   
      “What? Can’t I go for a morning ride?” Eilonwy joked, stroking the horse’s flank.  
      “Please tell me Lucy was with you” Peter begged. Eilonwy cocked a brow.  
      “No…sorry. Why? Has she been playing another round of hide and seek again? You know, she’s getting rather good” Eilonwy said. If there was one thing she knew the valiant to be a master of, it was hide and seek. Lucy had recruited many of the staff and her siblings into multiple games a week around the castle which, considering it’s size, was a dream come true. Eilonwy, however, always had a knack for finding her. After all, she knew Cair Paravel better than anyone else.   
       Susan grimaced at the thought of Lucy playing such games, as if her sister would scare her to death quite so much with something so childish. She would need to give the young queen a stern talking to once all of this was finished. “Maybe we should set up search parties, scour the castle for her” she suggested. Peter nodded in approval.   
      “I’ll search the training grounds, see if she’s trying her hand at archery or something” Peter offered.   
      “Good. I’ll check the library. Maybe she’s searching for something to read” Susan added. “Eilonwy, you go look in the parlor and see if she’s hiding in there.”   
      The moment Susan mentioned it, Eilonwy’s back stiffened. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest, eyes wild with panic. She would be more than happy to look anywhere else. Absolutely anywhere. Breath hitching in her throat, she leaned against the post by Everlast’s stall in hopes of keeping her balance. Eilonwy opened her mouth to protest but no sound came out.   
      “I don’t think she’d be in the parlor and even if she was, Eilonwy shouldn’t go looking for her there” Peter jumped in. Susan eyed him suspiciously, wanting to ask why not but was interrupted by Peter yet again. “You know, if you think it’s really worth checking, I’ll go look in the parlor and Eilonwy can check the training grounds. Does that sound alright?” He turned to the maiden for approval. She nodded vigorously, relief sweeping across her face. Peter met her with a brief, satisfied smile. Susan, however, watched in confusion. Another fragment of the strange puzzle that made up Eilonwy’s secretive life.  
      “Fine, then. I don’t care who looks where so long as we keep looking” Susan said firmly. She looked to her brother and friend for a brief moment before nodding once and turning off to do her duty. The moment she was out of sight, Eilonwy sighed in gratitude and gripped Peter’s arm tightly, letting her knees buckle and thanking him profusely.  
      “I swear, if she had made me go in there, I would’ve died!” she whined.   
      Peter chuckled and shook his head. If he were anyone else, he’d think she was being far too overdramatic. Instead, he simply smiled and said, “You’re welcome.” She looked up at him for a moment and in that instance, felt warmth rush to her cheeks. There was a certain sparkle in his eyes, whether from the early morning sunlight or from his kindness, that fed her with hope that perhaps that desire she hoped to find again had returned to his gaze. Before she could truly decide, however, the moment was gone. Peter turned his attention away, cleared his throat. “We better get going. No time to waste” he quickly said before motioning towards the castle and urging Eilonwy onward.   
      “Any luck?” Susan asked later that morning. Bejeweled fingers tangled in her skirts, gripping the fabric tightly in anticipation.   
     “Nothing” Peter replied somberly.   
     “She wasn’t in the training fields, either” Eilonwy added. Susan tossed her head back and groaned.  
      “Well, it’s a big castle. She could be anywhere. Maybe she’s on the move. It could be days before we track her down!” the gentle panicked.   
      “Or it could be minutes” a voice interrupted. The three of them whipped around to find Edmund standing in the hallway accompanied by the unexpected. Rather than standing hand in hand with their baby sister, he instead held up a note creased down the middle. In a wave of desperation, Susan rushed forward and snatched it from his hands. As she skimmed every letter, her heart pulsed faster and faster in her chest before she reached the end and broke.   
     “This is all your fault!” she shouted, whipping around to face Peter.   
     “My fault?! Susan, what are you talking about? Give me that!” he shouted back, taking the letter for himself.   
      “What? What is it?” Eilonwy inquired. All the commotion was hiking up her own panic. “What’s it say?”  
      Peter sped through the letter, hands beginning to tremble, before he crumpled the note and cursed under his breath. The maiden eyed him expectantly. “She’s gone to Galma.” 

* * *

     “I can’t believe this! How could she have disobeyed me like this?” Peter rambled, pacing. Eilonwy’s eyes followed him back and forth, arms crossed as she seated herself on his bed, as if she was watching a tennis match.   
      “Apparently Lucy’s valiance knows no bounds” she remarked. The High King shot her a glare.   
      “I can’t believe this. I just cannot believe this” he repeated. His fingers tangled in his golden hair and gripped the locks at the root with a groan. His eyes, bloodshot and blue, stared at the Persian rug on the floor of his bed chamber, studying the intricate designs and rich hues. He dug the toe of his boot into the carpeting before kicking at the tasseled edge. “How did she even manage any of this anyways? What did she do? Take a rowboat and go over there herself? I can’t believe she went over there. I can’t believe it.”   
      A knot tightened in Eilonwy’s chest. There was something about seeing Peter so frustrated that honestly scared her. There was a wildness in him, this untamed panic, that bristled the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck, sent chills down her spine and churned her stomach. She wrapped a lock of hair around her finger until it turned blue and bit her lip nervously. “So…what are you going to do about it, then?”   
      “What do you mean 'what am I going to do?’ There’s only one thing to do!” Peter shouted. “I have to go over there and bring her back! Even if she comes back kicking and screaming.” Eilonwy startled slightly at the inclination of his voice, imagining him dragging the protesting little queen by her ankles aboard the royal ship. “I’ll order Tumnus to send out a message. Gather the troops, bring together a crew, get the ship ready to depart.” Eilonwy nodded minutely. There was something grotesquely ironic about their upcoming voyage, she thought. The Pevensies first trip on the royal ship, the Splendor Hyaline, and they weren’t even venturing off for a pleasure cruise like the vessel’s original intent.   
      “I guess I ought to go and pack my things, then” Eilonwy murmured, standing and shuffling toward the door. Peter instantly shot her a questioning look. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re quarantining me here, are you?”   
      “There’s no way you’re coming along!” Peter countered.   
      “And why not?” Eilonwy shot back.  
      “Because! Nobody is coming along! It’ll be just me and a small crew, nothing more. The smaller the group, the safer. You are not included” Peter spat. Something broke inside Eilonwy’s chest and she abruptly grew uncertain of whether she wanted to cry or scream. She did her best to hold back either.   
      Furrowing her brows, she stared Peter down– or up, considering he was much taller than her– and clenched her fists at her side. “You know, I don’t know why you have such a problem with including me in these sorts of things. What is it? Are you afraid I’m too fragile? That I’ll get hurt or sick or something? I’m much stronger than you give me credit for, Peter. Remember Beruna?”   
      “Yes, I remember Beruna. When you deliberately disobeyed my orders and snuck into battle. And got hurt. That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent from happening, Eilonwy. I already have Lucy to worry about, I don’t have any extra energy to worry about your health, too” Peter snarled. By now, the look in his eyes had gone completely mental. He was a man on the brink of losing it but Eilonwy still didn’t heed the warnings. She was far too proud to let him tell her what she could and could not do.  
      “You seem to forget my unholy affliction. I was fine for a hundred years and I’ll be fine now. I’ll see you aboard the ship at dawn. I hope tomorrow morning you’re far less disagreeable than you are now or else this is going to be a rather long and grueling journey” Eilonwy replied, voice sharp and low. And with that, she turned and exited the room. It wasn’t until she was well down the hall, nearly to her own chambers, that she let herself break.   
      She hated thinking of poor, sweet little Lucy Pevensie in such an awful place, surrounded by so many of the dying. How many could she possibly heal before her cordial runs out? Fireflowers aren’t exactly a renewable resource. She thought of the young queen running herself ragged trying to cure every person she could, much like she did after the Battle of Beruna. She thought of all those people, vomit crusted to the corners of their mouths and puss oozing from black, swollen masses. The kind of images you see in horror films. The kind of images little girls aren’t supposed to be a part of. Eilonwy didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if the valiant queen fell ill. It was far too soon after their coronation for a royal funeral, nonetheless for someone so young. But Eilonwy couldn’t think like that. For all she knew, Lucy could be perfectly fine. Splendid, even. And it wasn’t like she was alone, either. She had Aesop and Nefyn. They’d take good care of her…wouldn’t they?   
      Peter’s thoughts ran in parallel to Eilonwy’s as he collapsed on his bed and buried his face in the duvet. He thought of all the times he had nearly lost her: when she was two and someone left the backyard gate open, age five when she crashed her bike and scraped up her face, age seven when she forgot to tell anyone she was going to a friend’s after school, age ten when the air raids began. And then in Narnia, when she slipped out of her coat in the frozen river. For as long as he could remember, he has been saving Lucy time and time again. But what if, this time, he’s unable to rescue her? What if this is when he really does lose her? An image of her, frail and sick, flashed through his brain and made him queasy. He pounded his fist against the mattress and cursed under his breath, hot tears rising behind his eyes. He willed them away but was unsuccessful. They came pouring down his cheeks in great sobs. He had to remind himself that no one could see him cry in the privacy of his own room. If he had been around Susan and Edmund and Eilonwy, he would never let himself break down like this. It would be too lame. He was the High King of Narnia, for Aslan’s sake. He was supposed to be strong, stony-faced, unyielding. But behind closed doors, he was still just a boy. A little kid. Perhaps Eilonwy was right about him. Perhaps he couldn’t do this on his own after all. But then he remembered Aslan, remembered standing beside the great lion on the the precipice of Beruna, Cair Paravel glistening in the setting sunlight. He remembered what the lion had told him, of how he personally appointed Peter to be High King. Aslan must have seen some kind of potential in him. He wouldn’t have assigned Peter such a role if he didn’t think the boy could handle it, right? Or perhaps Aslan was just far too cruel and wanted to see Peter suffer. He wasn’t quite sure which. It was getting late and his eyes burned and he had gotten very little sleep in the past month. All his thoughts were beginning to jumble together like a chalk drawing after a rainstorm, blurring the lines between sanity and lunacy. He kicked off his boots and coiled himself around his blankets, cocooning himself like a swaddled infant, and sinking into desperation. He asked himself “What would Lucy do?” She seemed to have far more faith in Aslan than her siblings combined. Suddenly, almost involuntarily, he clasped his hands together and found himself praying.   
      “Aslan…please watch over my sister for me…please…keep her safe. I can’t…I can’t imagine losing her…I need her to stay safe…please” he whispered softly. Peter felt like an absolute idiot– how could Aslan possibly hear him?– but it was as if his body was acting independent from his brain. He continued to mutter “Please…please, please…” through teary eyes until the words became inaudible whimpers and then nothingness as he slowly fell asleep. 

* * *

     Sunlight glittered across the ocean as the Splendor Hyaline prepared for it’s voyage. The High King climbed to the highest deck, tired eyes scanning the horizon. His heart raced in his chest as he hoped for a steadfast journey. _So long as I get to Lucy…_  
      “Enjoying the view?” a voice called from behind him. Peter whipped around to find Eilonwy behind him, arms crossed, smirk stretched on her lips. He rolled his eyes but not before looking her up and down: she was dressed much like a man in trousers and an oversized shirt, boots slouching down around her skinny ankles. Everything about her was skinny, especially without a dress to hide everything in. After a few moments passed without words, Eilonwy cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, cueing Peter to finally respond.   
      “As much as I can, I suppose” he shrugged. Eilonwy chuckled softly, skated beside him, patting him on the back a little too hard. Her sinewy arms fell over the edge of the railing as she gazed off toward the Eastern Sea.   
      “Galma should be a two day trip, tops. Captain Guildmore seems rather optimistic” she stated. Peter glanced back toward the main deck, watching the crew scatter and unite. In the midst of it all stood the strong outline of Captain Guildmore, face stony and voice commanding. In all honesty, Peter was a little fearful of him. He appeared powerful and dark. He was a force to be reckoned with. Guildmore was recruited shortly after the Pevensie’s coronation, recommended by Aslan himself for his vast knowledge and lengthy experience. He was a beast shrouded in mystery, origins unknown, and that made Peter even more wary of him. How was he meant to trust someone he knew nothing about? He already knew the answer: Aslan. The great lion would not have suggested his appointment had he not trusted the man. So for now, Peter had to settle.   
      The High King pursed his lips and clenched his hands together. “Two days cannot pass fast enough” he murmured. Eilonwy glanced his way peripherally, twiddling her thumbs over the edge. She could see the fear in Peter eyes, the panic coursing through his veins and twitching in his limbs. She remembered last night, the way he cracked in front of her. She wondered if he’d kick her off the ship before their departure. He hadn’t said anything so far.   
      After an awkward beat of silence, Eilonwy opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by an abrupt commotion from behind. Whipping around simultaneously, both Peter and Eilonwy’s eyes darted straight to the source of the sound: a massive uproar began amidst the crewsmen, a chaotic sea of flailing and fighting in the very center of the deck. Peter’s eyes widened, disgusted by such a scene. Instinct told him to jump into the fray but before he could get very far, a small but strong hand gripped his forearm and pulled him back. Questioning eyes landed on the maiden beside him, Eilonwy shaking her head no. He almost felt offended but all was finished before the emotion could fully form. She cocked her head back towards the scene, ushering Peter to watch. Guildmore grimaced from the other end of the ship and strode toward the commotion, but somehow it was not him who stopped the altercation. A glittering presence floated across the deck, long hair pulled back and skirts swishing like the ocean itself. Her seafoam gaze was not hard and piercing but harshly alarmed, disappointed. The moment the men saw her, they backed off one another, faces red, wringing their hands together nervously.   
      “What is all this about?” Queen Susan demanded. She eyed each one of the crew members, awaiting an answer.   
      “N-Nothing, your highness” a faun spoke up. Just then, Edmund sidled up beside his sister, luggage in tow.   
      “What’s going on here?” he asked.   
      “These men apparently haven’t been getting along very well” Susan replied, side-eyeing the crew. They all averted their gaze, digging hooves and toes into the floorboards.   
      “Will I have to shorten my staff?” Guildmore’s booming voice then inquired. A wave of panic spread through the group.   
      “N-no, sir” the same faun replied.   
      “Then what is the meaning of this…uproar?” the Captain asked. Silence befell them. His gaze hardened.   
     “J-just a little simple rough-housing sir. Nothing to be concerned about” another finally spoke up.   
      “We promise it won’t happen again, sir. Nothing of the sort!” yet another added.   
      Guildmore was obviously not convinced, but the sun was rising higher in the sky and he had more important things concerning him. It was surely half past nine and that meant they were running late. If there was one thing Guildmore hated, it was running late. With a harsh shout, he commanded his men to raise the anchor, hoist the sails, prepare for the voyage ahead.   
      From the highest deck, Peter watched in awe but it wasn’t Guildmore’s commanding presence that captivated him. It was his brother and sister’s. Breaking free of Eilonwy’s grasp, he barrelled down the stairs toward them, eyes wild and hands shaking. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.   
      “What do you mean?” Edmund replied.   
      “You’re not supposed to be here!” Peter shouted. Inside him, something was slowly unraveling once more.   
      “Peter, if you think for one second that we’re not coming with you, then you’re dead wrong” Susan said. “She’s our sister, too, you know. We’re just as worried about her as you are.”   
      Peter opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Just then, Eilonwy bounded forward, leaping beside Peter and placing her hands on his high shoulders as if to restrain him. “Why, what a quaint little surprise!” she exclaimed happily. “Fancy seeing you aboard. I wasn’t sure if you’d both be joining us or not. Peter here never mentioned anything of it!”   
      “I’m not surprised” Edmund muttered. The just glanced to Susan before dragging their trunks across the deck. Eilonwy’s eyes followed him to the door for a moment before he and his luggage disappeared below. Once gone, her eyes then glanced back and forth between Peter and Susan, their palpable tension swelling.   
      An assertion of dominance surged from Susan’s glass blue eyes, gaze locked on that of her older brother. Eilonwy could feel the muscles in his neck and upper back contract, palms forming fists at his sides. Finally, Susan adjusted her gaze to Eilonwy, softening, and asked politely, “Eilonwy, would you mind if I spoke to my brother in private?”   
      The maiden squeezed Peter’s shoulders briefly, as if to silently request he retain his temper, before immediately raising her hands and backing off. “Of course, your majesty. Take all the time you need. Uh, Peter…if you need me, I’ll just be, uh, off getting…settled.” She didn’t exactly feel comfortable leaving him behind, certain his anger would explode, but had to remind herself it was not her place. She was not Peter’s keeper. Hell, he was the goddamn High King. He didn’t need her hovering. He could manage on his own.   
      As night fell across the Great Eastern Ocean, and the Splendor Hyaline sailed closer to it’s destination, tensions ceased to disintegrate. The kings and queen ate dinner in silence, leaving Edmund to glance between his older siblings wishing he could say something but unsure exactly what. And when he did finally think of something, Eilonwy eyed him suspiciously as if warning him that he’d make matters worse. Though he had authority over her, Edmund had a hard time disobeying Eilonwy. She may no longer really be royalty, but she had been a princess nonetheless and a warrior princess, at that. He’d never be able to look at her without thinking of Beruna and that give him even more incentive to stay on her good side lest she lose her temper someday.  
      The minute Peter had finished his dessert, he threw his spoon onto the table and rose abruptly. “If you’d excuse me, I’m going to go get some much needed rest. I’ll see you all in the morning” he said rather professionally, though there was no hiding that undertone of frustration still boiling from deep within his chest. All eyes watched him depart. As soon as he was out of sight, Susan heaved a sigh and buried her face in her hands. Eilonwy’s heart raced in her chest. If the gentle queen was about to start crying, she needed to escape and fast. However, and much to Eilonwy’s relief, Susan shortly raised her head, pressed her hands together tightly, and then rose.   
      “I think I’d better get some rest, too. It’s been a long day. Goodnight, Ed. Goodnight, Eilonwy” she said quietly and then she was gone.   
      The dining room fell into an awkward silence for a few long and torturous minutes. Edmund stared at his empty plate, swirling the frosting remains around with the tongs of his fork, before glancing to Eilonwy. It wasn’t until she felt his eyes on her that she turned to look at him, too. The moment they locked eyes, something coursed between the both of them and suddenly, they found themselves both struggling to restrain an inappropiate fit of laughter.   
      “I haven’t seen Pete and Su so tense since the time Lucy found Narnia!” Edmund murmured between chuckles.   
      “So they’re always like this then?” Eilonwy replied.   
     Edmund shook his head. “Not always. But Peter’s probably just cheesed off because we came along when he didn’t want us to. Not that he said anything to me, but we both know what he was after.”   
     Eilonwy nodded. “I understand. He nearly refused my accompaniment on this journey, as well” she stated.   
      “I’m not surprised” said Edmund. “Peter likes to think he can take everything on all by himself. When our dad went off to war, Mum kind of appointed him the man of the house and ever since, he’s considered himself like Dad’s replacement.”   
      Though she knew the point he was trying to make, something about Edmund’s words struck a cord in Eilonwy’s chest. She envisioned Peter’s father, who looked almost identical to him save for broader shoulders and a stronger jaw, decked out in a strange uniform bidding farewell to his children. _Keep your mum and siblings safe for me, Pete. You’re the man of the house now._ A pat on the shoulder, supposedly reassuring but subconsciously mixed with a pinch of condescension. In that instant, Eilonwy felt utterly compelled.   
      “Peter? Can I speak with you a moment?” she called through the oaken doors. Her hands were shaking at her sides as she waited in the hallway. A moment of silence, a skipped heartbeat. Then, slowly, the door creaked open.   
“What do you want?” he snapped, poking his head out.   
      A huff. “I want to talk to you, you idiot. Now, come on. Let me in” Eilonwy demanded.   
      Peter sighed and rested his forehead against the doorframe, blocking her entrance. “Eilonwy, come on. Is this really necessary? I’m tired. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodn–”   
      “No! We need to talk right now. Come on. Open it up” she interrupted, coaxing him away from the door. Peter glared at her but was far too exhausted to protest further. Defeated, he stepped aside and swung the door open wider.   
      Eilonwy waltzed right inside and made herself comfortable, catapulting onto the edge of the bed. “Peter, I think we need to discuss some things. Speak to me.”   
      “There’s nothing to discuss” he quickly replied. Eilonwy cocked an eyebrow, not convinced. Peter did his best to stare her down, hoping she’d back off, but deep down he knew better. There was no breaking her. When she wanted something, she fought for it. With a sigh, he sunk into the chair in the corner of the room and rubbed his temples. “I’m just frustrated, is all.”  
      “About…?”   
      “About everything!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m a horrible king. There’s always too much to be done. Nobody even listens to me!”   
      “People listen to you, Peter” Eilonwy tried to reassure him.  
      “If people listened to me, none of you would be on this ship right now” Peter shot back. Eilonwy narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to continue. “It’s bad enough you’re here, let alone Su and Ed! I already have Lucy to worry about. What if any of you get sick, too? If you’d all have just listened to me–”   
      “Peter! Coming was our decision, not yours” the maiden interrupted.   
     “Well, my decision overwrites your decision! I never wanted any of you to come along but you all did it anyways. Do you have any idea how much more stress that puts on my shoulders?” he argued.   
      “Why does this always come back to you, Peter? Are you incapable of thinking of anyone but yourself?” Eilonwy shouted.   
      Peter’s eyes widened, his face turning red. For a moment, he was dead silent. Then, jaw clenched, “You have no idea what or who I think about” he growled.   
      “I know enough” Eilonwy spat.   
     Peter’s eyes hardened as he stood and walked toward the door. “I think you ought to leave.”   
      “I’m not going anywhere” Eilonwy said defiantly. Her and Peter locked eyes in one overwhelming moment, harsh gazes pounding against one another.   
      “I don’t have to put up with this, you know. I’m the High King!” Peter said.   
      “Oh, yes! Everyone knows you’re the High King! You don’t let anyone forget it!” Eilonwy mocked him. “If you’re so high and mighty, then, then perhaps you can learn to have a little empathy for once! You’re not the only one who cares about Lucy, you know!” The maiden’s voice grew higher and higher in volume until she was standing with fists clenched at her sides and eyes wild with fury. “You know what? I can’t even stand to look at you right now!” she shouted before finally surging out the door.   
      “Good!” Peter shouted after her. “And while you’re at it, you might as well not even return to Cair Paravel once this is all said and done!”  
      “Believe me, by now I’m seriously considering it!” she screamed over her shoulder. Her chamber door slammed shut and the entire corridor was drenched in darkness. In the company of no one, Peter was reminded of how truly alone he was. His chest felt tight and his hands were trembling. Somehow he was pushing away everyone he loved, but then again nobody he loved seemed to understand. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, he slowly closed his door and crawled into bed.   
      Staring at the ceiling, Eilonwy couldn’t stop herself from replaying their argument over and over again. Resting a hand to her chest, she waited for her heartbeat to slow but to no avail. Panic coursed through her veins, Peter’s words echoing in her ears. _And while you’re at it, you might as well not even return to Cair Paravel once this is all said and done!_ “Yeah, well I wouldn’t have had to if it wasn’t for your stupid prophecy, you douche” she whispered to herself. The clock in the corner ticked monotonously, the flicker of candlelight illuminating the time. 10:34pm. Though she was hardly tired, Eilonwy extinguished the flame and willed herself to get some sleep. At least in her dreams, she wouldn’t be haunted by such harsh words. Or so she thought.   
      The black of unconsciousness dissipated to stark light as Eilonwy blinked her eyes open. The sky above was bright and brilliant and blue, a perfect summer day. “Good morning, sleepyhead” a familiar voice cooed. The maiden turned to see her sister Helene sitting beside her, golden locks upswept in a generically formal style. Her long fingers reached down to pluck daisies from the damp earth, twirling the stems around like rings and snipping the petals away with dainty precision. As Eilonwy propped herself up on her elbows, the whole of the Narnian shore spanned before her. For the first time in a long time, she was speechless by it’s beauty.   
      “Where’s mother? Papa?” Eilonwy asked. Her heart was beginning to rise in her throat with excitement– how she longed to see them again! Helene simply giggled that stupid, girlish giggle she did when flirting with suitors and barrelled down the coast, forcing Eilonwy to rush after her. Chiffon skirts swayed in the sea breeze and tangled between her legs, their translucent fabric mimicking the swell and fall of the ocean itself. As the pair grew nearer to Cair Paravel, they came into view: mother and father standing in the beach grass watching as their daughters splashed each other wildly. Without any reservations, Helene leapt into the ocean water, dress ballooning around her waistline. A smile like the crescent moon spread across Amalthea’s lips, shrieking with laughter as Elara chased her deeper into the sea. Andrastea grinned wildly at the sight of her baby sister, slapping at Elara’s arm to alert her of her presence. The moment Elara’s eyes landed on Eilonwy, a scream of joy burst from within her and she scrambled up onto the beach to greet the maiden.   
      “Ellie, dear! Isn’t it such a beautiful day?” she gushed. There was something off about her, though. Something in her eyes. Eilonwy nodded quietly, glancing to her other sisters. In one swift movement, Elara scooped Eilonwy’s hands up in hers and tugged her toward the beach. “The water’s perfect! Just like a bath! Say you’ll join us? Pretty please?”   
      “W-well, I don’t know. I’m not really dressed for–” Eilonwy started but was quickly interrupted.  
      “Oh, come now, Ellie! Just a quick dip! You’ve never worried about ruining your clothes before!” Elara said. Despite her protest, Eilonwy wasn’t given much of a choice. Elara’s grip had become uncharacteristically strong as she dragged Eilonwy nearer and nearer to the water. In the distance, her sisters danced and sang and cooed her forward, voices like lullabies, melodic and perhaps even growing eerie.   
      “Ellie, dear! Just a quick dip! Come now!” Elara kept whining, clenching her hands even tighter around Eilonwy’s wrist each time she fought back.   
      “N-no! Elara, please! I’m not–!” the maiden shouted until suddenly a strong something grasped her waist and tugged her backwards.   
      “Let her go!” Elara shouted, eyes turning red. A shriek escaped from Eilonwy’s lips as she struggled against both forces.   
      “Stop it! Unhand me!” she shouted.   
      “Ellie, wake up! Wake up, Eilonwy!” a third, indistinguishable voice then called. It transformed as it progressed: a demonic echo slowly became a panicked plea. “Eilonwy! Don’t do this!”   
      “Let me go! Get off me!” she continued to shout. Elara’s mouth opened wide, revealing a collection of sharp fangs, as a blood curdling scream broke free and plunged Eilonwy into complete darkness. Then, her grip had fully released. Eilonwy tumbled backward, gasping for breath and feeling around in the darkness for anything to cling to. The earth felt as if it was tipping and cracking beneath her feet and in that moment, she was sure the end of days had finally come. Her face was soaking wet, as was her nightgown and her hair. And in the midst of it all, she still felt a strong something around her waist. “Let me go…by Aslan, all that is holy, let me go…” she whispered desperately.   
      “Eilonwy! Eilonwy, it’s me!” a voice called. The strong something lifted her to her feet and a hand brushed the wet matted hair away from her face. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and the face of her captor.   
      “P-Peter!” Eilonwy screamed. There was terror in his eyes as he fought to hold her steady, her wet body constantly slipping out of reach.   
      “What do you think you’re doing? You’re about to get yourself killed!” he yelled. Obviously she had lost all common sense. Eilonwy wanted to fight back but upon opening her mouth, she produced no sound. She was suddenly very aware that it was not only rain soaking her face but tears and the moment she discovered this, they came pouring even harder than before. Without another word, Peter gripped her wrist tightly and guided her back down to the hallway, away from all the chaos. “You’re soaking wet, you must be freezing” he muttered to himself, stealing the blanket from his bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. Mindlessly, she fell onto his bed like a rag doll and curled up in the comfort of his sheets. “What on earth were you doing? You could’ve been killed! You could’ve fallen overboard and drowned! Is that what you want? Is it your goal in life to give me a damn heart attack?” he shouted.   
      All Eilonwy could do was shiver and cry. It was perhaps the most vulnerable Peter had ever seen her and he quickly began to feel incredibly guilty for all he had said and done. He looked around the room frantically, trying to think of what to do, before hesitantly inching closer and sitting beside her on the bed. He noticed that when she cried, she didn’t wail dramatically or even sob. She just laid there staring off into space, tears cascading down her cheeks with the occasional pathetic whimper. She was crumbling and Peter, suddenly acting on pure instinct, pulled her into his lap like a child and held her as close as possible. She immediately buried her face in the crook of his neck, her hot tears dampening his skin, and there she stayed until she fell asleep. And then, once unconscious, Peter scooted back with her toward the head of the bed and attempted to lay her down, but she refused to let go of him. Unable to release himself from her grip, he sighed and scooted downward to rest both their heads on the pillow, laying there with her through the rest of the night.   
      As the sunlight filtered through the window of Peter’s chamber, Eilonwy groaned and blinked awake. Her eyes were bloodshot and crusted shut and every limb in her body ached. Sitting up, however, she made a terrifying realization: she was alone in Peter’s bed. A gasp escaped her as she jumped out from under the sheets, a long list of worst case scenarios running through her head. She remembered their fight, and laying in her own bed, but not much else afterwards. Anything proceeding was a hazy memory she would soon forget.   
      “Peter…?” she called, poking her head out the doorway. The corridor was completely clear. The High King was nowhere to be found. “Can you imagine the scandal that would come of anyone finding out about this? Ha! Some sloppy huntress found in bed with the High fucking King of Narnia! Priceless” she muttered to herself as she tiptoed back to her chamber. Perhaps it was all just a big misunderstanding. Perhaps no one would ever know. By Aslan, she hoped no one would ever know. The clock in her room read 9:47am. Surely she was running late for breakfast but by now, she was so disoriented she scarcely cared. At least she was still alive.   
      Eilonwy peered into the dining room once dressed and freshened up, finding everyone just finishing their breakfasts. _Alright, I’ll just sneak in once they all leave and eat the leftovers. Like a dog scrounging for table scraps. Yeah_ , she thought to herself but before she could carry out her plan, a familiar voice called to her.   
      “Good morning, sleepyhead” Peter greeted. A pang of pain hit her chest. Wincing, she turned to enter the room and smiled painfully.   
      “Please don’t say that” she whispered, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes. Suspicion flashed across his face but he let it slide.   
      “How did you sleep last night?” Susan inquired as she stirred her tea.   
      “Oh, like a baby!” Eilonwy lied. “Something about the rhythmic rocking of boats is just so…lulling!”   
      “There’s some leftover pancakes on the serving cart” Edmund said, cocking his head toward the platter. Eilonwy nodded and thanked him quietly, rising from her seat to serve herself. When she returned, a stack of pancakes ten layers high sat in front of her, resulting in some rather curious looks.  
      “I’m starved!” Eilonwy gushed, shoving a massive bite into her mouth with a cheesy grin.  
      Licking her lips, Susan nodded and then lifted her napkin from her lap. “Well then, I think I’ll take a morning stroll along the deck. Ed, would you care to join me?” she said, giving her brother a knowing glance. Edmund quickly nodded, scarfed down what little food remained on his plate, and scurried out of the room alongside his sister. Panic rose in Eilonwy’s throat watching them leave but she continued shoveling food into her mouth in hopes that Peter might leave soon, as well.   
      He watched her curiously before chuckling and finally breaking the silence. “If you take any bigger bites, you’ll choke to death.” Eilonwy paused a moment before swallowing her food and slowly lifted another bite to her lips. A beat of silence. “You have a thing for near-death experiences, don’t you?” he then asked.   
      “Peter, what the hell are you talking about?” the maiden asked. If he meant Beruna, ample time had already passed to be pinning shame on her disobedience again. The High King rose from the other end of the table to float closer, running his hand innocently along the backs of chairs.   
      “Don’t you remember last night?” he asked. Eilonwy spluttered and fumbled for her water glass.  
      “What about last night?” she croaked. She felt like she was going to be sick.   
      “I’m surprised you didn’t wake up the entire boat with your screaming!” Peter exclaimed. Instantly, Eilonwy shot up from her seat and pointed her fork at him.   
      “Listen, whatever you did to me last night–” she started.  
      “Wait, Eilonwy, what are you talking about?” Peter asked. Genuine confusion crossed his face.  
      “W-w-what was it? Was it the transparency of my nightgown? My cleavage? Or was the heat of our fight far too unbearable and you just had to get in my pants? Hmm?” she accused.   
      “Whoa, whoa, Eilonwy! Calm down! Th-that’s not it at all!” Peter begged.  
      “Well what was it then? Huh? What was it that just made you so damn aroused?!”   
      “You really don’t remember…?” Peter asked softly, cautiously coming nearer.   
      “I’ll stab you! I’ll scream!” Eilonwy threatened.   
      “Eilonwy, I didn’t take advantage of you!” Peter demanded.   
“If you didn’t take advantage of me, then why did I wake up this morning in your bed? Huh? Explain that, your majesty!” she replied, a wildness and mocking tone filtering through her voice.   
      “You nearly went overboard!” he finally said. Eilonwy froze dead in her tracks. There was no way. He was lying. Cocking an eyebrow, she eyed him suspiciously and urged him to continue. “I woke up last night to hear you screaming from the deck. There was a terrible storm so I couldn’t possibly imagine why you’d be out there, especially at such a late hour. When I went to check on you, you were nearly over the edge and soaking wet. It was like you were in some kind of trance, maybe in the middle of a nightmare or something. I tried to pull you back but you kept fighting me. Finally, I got a hold of you and led you back to my room to warm you up. You just flopped onto my bed and wouldn’t leave so I let you stay there and that’s all that happened, okay? I didn’t take advantage of you! I would never take advantage of you” Peter explained.   
      As she listened to him tell his tale, suddenly everything grew clearer. Images of her family and the Narnian shores flashed through her brain, of Elara’s piercing red eyes and deadly grip. “Oh my god…” Eilonwy murmured softly. Knees weakening, she fell into the nearest chair and dropped the fork to the ground.   
      “A-are you okay…? Eilonwy…?” Peter asked softly. He slowly dropped down into the chair beside her, rested a gentle hand atop hers but she quickly pulled hers away. “Listen, Eilonwy…” he then sighed. “I’m sorry about last night. About our argument. I guess…I guess I was just scared. Aslan knows I still am. I’ve had a lot on my plate but it wasn’t right for me to lash out at you like that. I guess just between you and Ed and Lu and Su, I just…I’m so terrified of what we’re going to find when we finally land on Galma. I don’t want to put anyone at risk of contracting whatever disease is over there. I don’t want to lose anyone. Including you.”   
      Eilonwy slowly raised her eyes to look upon him, studying the contours of his face. “You really mean that?” she whispered. He nodded.   
      “You drive me crazy sometimes, but somehow you simultaneously keep me sane. You’re the only one I feel I can really talk to. You understand. I never should’ve told you not to come back to Cair Paravel with us” he said. “After all, it was your home first anyways.”   
      The maiden chuckled softly. “Well, just try not to lose that big head of yours” she murmured, patting his head awkwardly. He smiled back at her and once again, she swore she felt that same energy flickering between them that she had felt on that dance floor. An electric charge willing their lips closer together. His eyes glanced to her mouth as he slowly leaned in closer.   
      “I’ll do my best” he whispered, now so close she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her eyes began to slowly shut, terrified but unable to stop what was happening. Just as their lips nearly brushed against one another, however, a voice called from the hallway.    
      “Land ho! Galma ahead!”  
      Instantly, Peter snapped from his trance, leaning back with eyes wide. “Lucy!” he murmured. Without wasting another second, he leapt from his chair and barrelled down the hallway, leaving Eilonwy by her lonesome in the dining room. Her hand rose to graze her lips with soft fingertips, cursing under her breath, before shaking the thoughts from her head and chasing after him. She didn’t have time to think of such silly, pointless things. People were dying. Lucy was in danger. There were far more important things demanding her attention. And as she reached the top deck, she was met with them head on.


	5. VOL 1, EP. 4: Outbreak, Part Two

      Galma was a land of antique charm with cobblestone roads and cozy little buildings backed right up against one another. Once the Splendor Hyaline docked, memories of childhood visits flooded Eilonwy’s brain. Unlike those happy times, however, now all she saw was disease and despair. _I guess the trouble living in such close quarters, she thought to herself, is the increased contagion._ People wailed in the streets, faces pale and bodies bruised, as they clung to one another and prayed for a miracle. A collective silence spanned across the deck as the ship’s crew began preparing the luggage for unloading. Eilonwy glanced to the kings and queen, instantly aware of exactly what they were thinking: we never should’ve come here. But Lucy. They had to get Lucy.

     Swallowing hard, Peter straightened his back and turned to his men, ordering them to lay down the plank so that they may depart. The wavering in his voice only emphasized his fear and uncertainty.   
      Peter clenched his hands at his sides as he and his confidantes waded through the sea of dead and dying. A cocktail of fluids puddled and trickled through the streets, swirls of crimson and pale yellow and snot green. Puss oozed from blisters and blood dribbled past chapped lips. It was a wonder how anyone would come here voluntarily, but Lucy did.   
      “I’m beginning to regret not wearing pants” Susan muttered, gathering her skirts in her arms so as not to stain the hem. Eilonwy rolled her eyes and trotted past her. Despite her cool exterior, however, inside the huntress was constantly restraining the urge to vomit. Not only the sight but the smell– oh god, the smell!– was enough for anyone to keel over and die. Galma was transforming into a mass graveyard of unburied bodies left to fester and rot in the summer heat.   
      Something churned inside Susan’s chest at the sight of such terror, something far less brutal than disgust. Though the scene was hardly bearable, the gentle queen forced herself to see past the sores and the screams to the people behind them. She saw mothers cradling lifeless children, husband’s crying over dead wives, children wandering aimlessly without a parent to steer and hug them. This is why Lucy came here. This is what Lucy needed to do: to help them. And perhaps it was what Susan, and even the others, needed to do, as well.   
      As they walked along steep, residential hillsides toward the estate at the very top, Edmund did his best to steer clear of everyone as best he could. The last thing he wanted was to contract the disease himself. The higher they climbed, however, the narrower the streets grew and soon Edmund’s plan faltered, his elbow bumping into a mass of body on his right hand side.   
      “Oh! S-sorry!” he murmured, eager to rush off as quickly as possible. A gasp echoed from behind him as a hand reached out to grab his arm, keeping him trapped in his space. Edmund panicked, struggling to break free, but when he turned around, was met by a pleasantly familiar face. “Nefyn?!”   
      The young centaurette smiled, though it was clear she was incredibly weary. Her caramel skin had grown dull and dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. “I didn’t expect to find you here, in such a place!” she exclaimed. She leaned in to hug him but then thought better of herself at the last minute. If she was a carrier, she didn’t want to put Edmund at risk.   
      “…and then the duke ought to think rather highly of us by then, don’t you think?” Susan spoke as her and the others trekked upward. “If anything, I’m sure Edmund can negotiate some sort of alliance, right Ed?” As she turned to face her younger brother, however, she panicked to find him gone.  
      “Oh, great” Peter muttered. Instinctively, he barreled back down the pathway in search of the just king. First Lucy, now Edmund. As is the apparent pattern. Finally, a wave of relief. “Nefyn?!”   
     “Good day, your majesties!” she greeted with a slight bow. “Edmund was just telling me of your journey here in search of Lucy.”   
      Peter’s attention was instantly captured. “Lucy! Have you seen her? Where is she?” he demanded.   
      Nefyn laughed coolly and shook her head. “Don’t you worry, your highness. My father and I have had her well looked after. She’s been of great assistance to us these past few days. Last I saw her, she was with my father down on the other side of the island” she explained.   
      Peter wasted no more time. Like a bullet, he scaled the mountainside to the very top, pausing to catch his breath at the summit. From the patio of the duke’s estate, he could see all the way to the desolate beaches. His eyes frantically scanned the village below in hopes of finding any glimpse of Lucy but to no avail. If he was to have any luck finding her, he’d have to search on foot.  
      By the time Susan and Eilonwy reached the estate, Peter had already disappeared into the east side of the island, leaping over body after body and calling out Lucy’s name. “Shouldn’t we go after him?” Eilonwy inquired.   
      Susan shook his head. “Peter would only get frustrated if we imposed. I say we stay here and wait for his return” she said. Though she tried to keep her voice steady, it was obvious she was insanely worried. Perhaps she didn’t have the strength to do anything but wait and pray. Clasping her hands together, she scurried into the estate to briefly greet the duke himself and alert him of their arrival. Eilonwy gazed out into the vast expanse for a moment before sighing and shaking her head.   
      “Please let her be safe…”   
      Down in the fray, Nefyn led Edmund through the tight alleyways talking of her adventure. “This is probably the worst epidemic I’ve seen, well, ever! I wish there was more we could do, though. It seems like all we’ve tried is never enough. Lucy’s cordial has been of great use to us but even then, it doesn’t prevent them from contracting the disease again. And unfortunately, the second hit is often worse than the first” she explained, motioning to a small pile of bodies heaped up against the wall like firewood. The centaurette pursed her lips and knitted her dark brows together in pity.   
      “Do you know what it even is?” Edmund asked, careful not to step on anyone. Nefyn shook her head.   
      “I wish we did, Ed. I truly wish we did. Even my father said he’s scarcely seen a sickness the likes of this before and he’s seen everything. Perhaps it’s some new kind of disease taking hold, maybe contracted from the livestock here. That seems to be a common cause of these sorts of things– pigs and chickens and the like” Nefyn explained. Ed nodded slowly. He had remembered reading about the Bubonic plague in history class, the way it spread through Europe from infested rats and wiped out nearly half the population. A shiver ran down his spine. In the midst of his thinking, however, his care in watching where he stepped faltered and he tripped over a rogue leg spread out across the path. In one swift motion, he went tumbling to the ground, extending his arms out before him to at least break his fall.   
      Nefyn squealed and whipped around, pounding her front hooves against the cobblestone in shock. “Ed, are you alright?!” she exclaimed. The just king sucked in a breath as he used Nefyn’s flank for support in lifting himself up.   
      “I think so…” he mumbled. There’s something significantly disorienting about tripping over a dead person’s body part into the stickiness of unidentified bodily fluids. The smell as it stuck to his skin like mucus amplified his disgust.   
      Kicking into work mode, Nefyn cautiously checked the just king once, twice, even three times over to ensure he was truly alright. However, she was rather displeased to find a scrape on his knee that tore right through his hose.   
      “Bollocks!” she whispered to herself, immediately ripping a scrap of cloth from one of her saddle bags. “Here, we need to treat this immediately” she demanded, wrapping the wound in a panic.   
      “It’s just a scrape. I’m fine, really” Edmund tried to reassure her, but she was unconvinced.  
      “Ed, if that scrape gets infected– _especially_ by all this gunk in the streets– then I guarantee you, you will be in a world of pain. We need to get you out of here _now_ ” Nefyn explained. The urgency in her voice forged a lump high in Edmund’s throat, as if highlighting the severity of the situation. His eyes panned to the heaps of bodies, their puss filled buboes and blood stained lips. His stomach flipped. Before he could dwell on his circumstance any longer, however, Nefyn had grabbed his wrist and hoisted him up onto her back in one swift motion. “Hang on tight!” she commanded. Edmund nodded once, dazed, and instinctively wrapped his arms around her bare waist. A shiver ran up his spine but not necessarily the bad kind. He could feel the hard muscles in her abdomen flex as she galloped toward the estate, determined to keep her friend safe.   
      From the other end of the island, Peter weaved his way through the narrow streets, cursing under his breath that apparently Galma wasn’t build for quick pursuit. He swore he saw Lucy in every little girl he passed, his heart pounding at the sight of emaciated children who reminded him so much of the valiant. But Lucy wouldn’t get sick. She’d be fine. She was fine. He had to be sure of it, constantly reassuring himself so as to not drive himself mad. Not that he wasn’t already going mad. By now his lungs ached, numb legs forcing him to stop for a breath. The High King leaned against a pillar, gasping, scanning the hillside down toward the sea desperate for any sign of his baby sister. His thoughts were clouded with the horrendous coughs of nearby victims, blood spluttering from their mouths and contributing to the sea of fluid pooling in the streets. This was not the place for Lucy. Absolutely not. He had to find her if it was the last thing he did. There were only so many places on this island where she could be, anyways. He glanced back toward the estate, a beacon of safety and hope atop the hill, before sucking in a deep breath and proceeding down through the dirtied streets.  
      “Oh yes, we plan to do all we can to help your country retaliate from this terrible tragedy” Susan spoke, words cool and collected as she grasped the hands of the Galman duke. Eilonwy nodded vigorously, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Unlike the gentle queen, the maiden had remained silent nearly the entire time, unsure of what she even could say in such an instance. International affairs were never exactly her forte, after all. And besides, she was far too preoccupied with more pressing matters at hand. Eilonwy found it hard to believe Susan was so composed when her baby sister was down in the wreckage among so many diseased and dying. The huntress gazed down at the village below, the red streets cluttered with bodies, and shuddered at the thought of sweet little Lucy weaving through such a scene. Surely Susan was thinking about it, too.   
      As they spoke, the duke’s eyes shifted from Susan to the doorway, then instantly interrupted with a “Miss Nefyn! What a joy to see you! How are things down in the fray?”   
      “No time to chat, your regency. We’ve got an urgent matter at hand” Nefyn said quickly, and as she galloped closer it became very clear that Edmund was upon her back.   
      “Ed, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” Susan instantly exclaimed, rushing forward.   
      “We had a bit of an accident” Nefyn replied.   
      Susan’s eyes instantly drifted down to Edmund’s injury, eyes widening and a gasp escaping her lips. “Ed, what the devil–?! How?!” she panicked.   
      “Well…” the just king began. “I may or may not have tripped over a dead guy’s leg and scraped my knee.” The gentle queen stared at him with wide, panicked eyes for a moment before sighing and slapping her palm to her face.   
      “I suggest quarantine. That’s the only certain way to ensure the scrape remains well cleaned and void of any risks of infection” Nefyn replied matter-of-factly. All the color drained from Susan’s face as she slowly sunk into the nearest chair. It was bad enough she had Lucy to worry about, but now Edmund, too? Fantastic.   
      “Wait, what about the cordial?” Eilonwy finally spoke up. All eyes turned to her, surprise painting the duke’s face. By now he had probably just assumed the huntress was a mute.   
      “We can’t do anything until we find Lucy” Susan added. Eilonwy nodded slowly, eyes drifting from the gentle to the just. Nefyn gave a single nod before turning to the duke, who ushered the centaur and the king back to the residential hall.  
      Edmund rested a hand on Nefyn’s back for comfort, staring at the abundance of oil paintings in hopes it would get his mind off of what was to come. No matter how many serene scenes of pottery and verandas at sunrise, however, all he saw were corpses and blood.   
      “It isn’t much” the duke stated, swinging open the door to a guest suite, “but it should suffice.” Great windows lined the far wall, the rest of the room occupied by frescos and potted plants. It was nothing like the marble beauty of Cair Paravel– rather, this place was more earthy and warm. It reminded him of photographs he had seen of Venice and Tuscany, an old world charm filled with hospitality and seasoned culture.   
      From upon the balcony, Susan gazed across the island and to the horizon. “Peter ought to love this” she murmured.   
      “When do you think he’ll return?” Eilonwy inquired. The gentle simply shook her head. They both knew well enough that Peter wouldn’t stop until he found Lucy, but he had been gone for so long that the waiting had given them each ample opportunity to overthink. What if Lucy had disappeared? What if she was kidnapped? What if she was dead? They both willed away the thoughts.  
      As they stood in silence, suddenly an idea sparked in Eilonwy’s brain. She turned to face the balcony itself, the little mosaic dinette and their most significant belongings. On the back of one of the chairs hung Susan’s bow and quiver and, along with it, her horn. “Hey, Susan…” Eilonwy said slowly. “What did Father Christmas say again about that horn?”   
      Susan furrowed her brow a moment before piecing together what Eilonwy was getting at. “Oh, no you don’t!” she exclaimed.   
      “But why not? He said to use it if we’re ever in danger, correct?” Eilonwy argued.   
      “Yes, but–!” Susan began but was quickly interrupted.   
      Eilonwy skated toward the table and ran a finger along the length of the horn. “Well, you would classify this as an emergency, wouldn’t you? Your baby sister gone, your younger brother hurt. Peter is bound to respond…and so should Lucy.”   
      It was a tempting offer, certainly. The quickest way to get everyone back together, but Susan couldn’t help but fear it was a misuse of power. They weren’t in any danger as far as she was concerned. If they were to blow the horn, then Peter and Lucy would surely think there was some imminent emergency, a life or death situation. Not that Edmund’s injury was any less important, but certainly not life or death. Or at least Susan prayed it wasn’t.  
      Eilonwy eyed the queen expectantly, eyebrow raised and finger lightly caressing the ivory. “Well…?”   
      Peter huffed as the sun set on the island, reaching the edge of town with little success. His eyes burned from the sweat dripping off his brow and the stitch in his side made left his lungs screaming for air. _Dammit, Lu,_ he thought to himself _, if this is meant to be some sick game of hide and seek, you win._ In his effort to track Lucy down, he quickly realized the trouble with little girls: they had a serious inability to stay in one place. Surely if she had rooted herself in one spot, he would’ve much more easily found her but he knew Lucy well enough to know that’s never the case, especially when on a mission. She was no doubt overflowing with determination to heal every person she could find, meaning she’d be buzzing through the streets with cordial in hand like a hummingbird, impossible to catch.   
      As he leaned against the dock and sighed, an alarming sound suddenly reached his ears. Faint, echoing from a higher altitude, but distinct all the same: Susan’s horn. Without a second thought, Peter’s immediately jolted back through the streets toward the estate. Maybe Lucy went back, maybe she was hurt or ill and needed immediate attention. Peter didn’t know and he didn’t care. All he was certain of was that he needed to follow the sound.   
      “Where’s Lucy?!” the High King gasped, skidding to a halt at the estate’s entrance.   
      “I thought she was with you!” Susan shrieked. Her dark hair was in minor disarray, a surefire sign of her distress.   
      “I’ve been looking for her all afternoon but she’s nowhere to be found” Peter replied. His voice wavered at the admission, hating the way the words felt in his mouth.   
      “Well, now we’ve got more than just Lucy to worry about” the gentle said. Peter’s heart skipped a beat, looking Susan over before turning his attention to Eilonwy and then back. The huntress twisted her arms around her waist in anxiety, shaking her head softly and averting her eyes. Unhurt.   
      “Edmund…?” Peter murmured. Susan nodded. The magnificent cursed under his breath before barrelling toward the hall.   
      “It’s no use. He’s on quarantine” Eilonwy called after him. Her words stopped Peter in his tracks, whipping around to face her in terror. “It’s not as bad as you think. Promise. He just got a little scrape and Nefyn suggested quarantine for his own safety” she continued. She figured someone might as well give him the full story, and Susan didn’t seem in any condition emotionally to explain.   
      “Not as bad as I think? Lucy is still missing, Edmund’s sick, and I’m losing my head!” Peter shouted.   
      “Peter, please try to calm down…” Susan murmured, hesitantly skating forward. A bejeweled hand reached out in comfort but at the last second, the gentle thought better of herself and retracted.   
      “I can’t calm down! This was all a huge mistake. Lucy never should’ve come here” Peter raged. Then, much quieter, voice strained: “This is such a mess.” Defeated, he sunk into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands.   
       “What’s a mess?” a small voice then called from the doorway. Everyone recognized it immediately. _Lucy._  
      Without a second thought, Peter and Susan unanimously leapt from their seats to take her in a massive embrace. The valiant was drenched in shouts of _Don’t ever do a thing like this again!_ and _Thank Aslan, you’re alright!_ and even an _I can’t believe you’d do such a thing! You had us worried sick!_  
      “If I knew I’d come back to this kind of celebration, I’d run off more often!” Lucy joked, wrapping her arms around her siblings. They both stared at her unamused before she shook her head and pulled them close. “I’m kidding! But it is such a relief to see you all here. But…where’s Edmund?”   
      Peter and Susan’s faces fell at the inquiry. How were they supposed to tell Lucy her big brother was sick? Or at least at a higher risk of getting sick, that is. After a moment of silence, Lucy knew something was definitely up, cocking her brow in suspicion.   
     “Ed had a bit of an…accident” Susan said cautiously. Lucy stepped forward, urging her to continue. “He was out helping Nefyn when I guess he fell and…scraped his knee. He’s perfectly fine! Just kind of…on quarantine for the time being. Nefyn was scared the cut might get infected if he doesn’t stay put.”   
      Tilting her head to the side, Lucy looked at her siblings in great confusion. “I don’t understand. I can just use my cordial on him and he’ll be fine! You’re all so dramatic” she chuckled, swatting away their insecurity. Peter nodded, dumbfounded, as Lucy then asked, “I’ll go take care of him. Where is he?” and with that, Peter, Susan, and Eilonwy led the littlest Pevensie back to Edmund’s chamber.   
      A light knock and the door creaked open to a rather indulgent scene. Edmund laid back in the luxurious bed, pillows abound, as Nefyn sanitized the scrape with utmost precision. A silver platter of fruits and cheeses rested beside the just king, sucking grapes off the vine and sipping a goblet of the finest wine.   
      “Is this what happens when you get hurt in this country? If so, count me in” Eilonwy joked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway.   
      “Ed, what the bloody hell is going on?” Susan exclaimed. Edmund paused mid-chew to look up at them, a cheesy grin spreading across his lips.   
      “The duke felt so bad about my getting injured that he offered me this great room with around the clock service and all I can eat!” Edmund gushed. Susan narrowed her eyes.   
      “It’s a minor scrape!” the gentle shouted.   
       “It’s an unexpected injury at risk of infection” the just corrected. Susan rolled her eyes and groaned, yet again slapping a palm to her forehead.   
       “Don’t you worry, your majesties. The duke has appointed me Ed’s personal servant and nurse. Anything he wants or needs, it’s my duty to give it to him. Bandages, sponge baths, snacks. Anything!” Nefyn stated, raising a hand in salute.   
      Peter rolled his eyes, exclaiming “No sponge baths!” before Lucy rushed forward, cordial in hand.   
      “It’s alright, Ed! I’m here. One drop and you’ll be good as new!” the little queen reassured. She uncapped the bottle and tilted it toward Edmund’s lips but there was serious panic in his eyes as he covered his mouth and shook his head. “Edmund, what’s wrong?” she asked in great confusion.   
      “It’s just…” he stammered. “Your cordial! Look how low it’s gotten! Do you really want to waste a valuable drop on a kid with a little scrape on his knee?” he explained.   
      “I thought you said it was ‘an unexpected injury at risk of infection’?” Peter prodded. Ed glared, whispering at him to shut up, before softening his gaze to Lucy.   
      “But you’re my brother! It’s no trouble, really!” she protested.   
      “No, Lu, I wouldn’t dream of it! I’ll be fine. Save it for the others. The ones who need it far more than I do” Edmund replied. He rested a hand on Lucy’s and smiled softly, but Peter knew better.   
      “You’re just doing this so you can get the royal treatment, aren’t you?” he accused. Edmund’s eyes widened, a dramatic gasp spilling from his lips.  
      “Peter! I am offended you’d think such a thing!” he began but before he could say more, Lucy interrupted.   
      “It’s alright, Edmund” she said. “I understand. I understand _completely._ ” Underneath the sweetness, there was something conniving about her tone, eyes glancing from Edmund to Nefyn and back. “Take all the time you need to get better and rest yourself.” She kissed him on the cheek before backing away from the bed, motioning for the others to follow her, explaining that they had lots of hard work to do and were wasting time. Ed watched wide-eyed and, to be honest, slightly unnerved, as the door creaked shut. Once fully alone, his cheeks burned bright red, a nervous chuckle escaping through his awkward grin.   
       “Little girls. They’re just so dramatic!” he joked to Nefyn, as if it would ease his discomfort. Nefyn eyed him suspiciously before slowly turning back to her cart of lotions and salves to reorganize the bottles. When she wasn’t looking, Edmund buried his face in the pillows and sighed.   
      Moonlight cast the island in an ethereal glow as the Pevensies sat around the balcony in collective defeat. “What are we supposed to do now?” Susan asked, glancing to each of her present company.   
      “What do you mean 'what are we supposed to do now?’ I think it’s very clear what we’re supposed to do” Peter replied.   
       “Peter’s right. We really only have one option” Eilonwy spoke. “Edmund can’t leave until the quarantine is lifted. The quarantine can’t be lifted until the epidemic is cured. And the epidemic can’t be cured until we find the source of the sickness and beat it from the root.” It was this last sentence that truthfully took everyone by surprise, fully capturing everyone’s attention.   
      “Where did you come up with that plan?” Susan questioned. Eilonwy shrugged.   
      “What about my cordial?” Lucy asked. “I’ve been rushing around the entire island trying to cure everyone, you can’t tell me all that effort has gone to waste!”   
      Eilonwy shook her head. “It hasn’t, Lucy. But if we don’t defeat the source of the sickness, no matter how much you use your cordial, people are just going to keep getting sick over and over again” she replied. Lucy frowned, eyes downcast, at such a harsh slap of reality. Perhaps all her effort _had_ gone to waste, then. Perhaps this entire trip was a waste. All she wanted was to help people, but hearing it that way, she began to feel like nothing more than a hamster on it’s wheel: constantly running but getting nowhere.   
      “Alright, then. So how do we find the source of the sickness?” Peter asked. Now this was a question Eilonwy didn’t have an answer to. She averted her eyes, studied the grout in the flooring, chewing on her bottom lip.   
      “Face it, Pete, she has no idea. She’s all talk” Susan then said. Peter didn’t want to believe her, but as Eilonwy’s silence dragged on, it became harder and harder to have faith in the huntress.  
      “You really don’t know, do you…?” he finally asked, quietly, cautiously. Eilonwy glanced at him, unable to maintain eye contact, with a sorry shake of her head.   
      “Oh, well that’s just brilliant!” Susan erupted. “We’ve come all this way only to get stuck here without any idea of what to do! Perfect! We should’ve just grabbed Lucy and gone back to Narnia while we still had the chance.”   
      “Hey!” Eilonwy shouted, finally breaking. “None of this is my fault! It’s not like I cast some sort of curse across the entire island like some sort of witch! Maybe if I wasn’t the only one coming up with ideas, then we’d be getting somewhere!”   
      “Stop it!” Lucy interrupted. All eyes turned to her. “Arguing isn’t going to help anything.”   
      “Lucy’s right” Peter sighed. “If we yell and fight, we’re just going to make matters worse. We need to work together to figure this out. _All of us_.” A small smile touched Eilonwy’s lips as her and Peter locked eyes for a split second. Something fluttered inside her at his defense, a notion of care and respect. She shoved it deep down inside of her. There were more important matters at hand.   
      As the sun peeked over the horizon, the Pevensies suited up to enter the fray. Lucy babbled on about protocol and all that she had already experienced alongside Nefyn and Aesop, but deep down she was terrified. All she could think about was how low her cordial was getting and of all the sick, helpless people in the streets below. What if she really couldn’t save them all? Her breath hitched.   
      Wading through the streets absentmindedly was one thing but diving straight into the sea of death and disease was another entirely. Rather than just bodies, now they saw people. Real, living people with lives and hopes and dreams and families. Eyes clouded over with mucus and cold hands clammy to the touch. The Pevensies were like angels to those desperate for their help. As they wandered through the streets, the beggars reached for them in desperation.   
      _I can’t believe Lucy voluntarily immersed herself in this_ , Susan thought in disbelief. The stench was what tortured her the most, the smell of dead bodies hanging in the air and constricting her throat until she thought she’d suffocate. But the further they walked, the more saddened Susan became. So many pale, sickly faces and tear-stained cheeks. So many children left to fend for themselves, naked and emaciated and afraid. One bumped into her as he crossed the street, eyes wide as he profusely apologized to the woman he could only imagine was an archangel herself. Susan’s heart broke at the sight of him and she instinctively just wanted to wrap her arms around his frail little body and hold him close, show him the comfort and care he so desperately deserved. How many more children were like this? She choked back her tears.   
      Back at the estate, Edmund gazed out to the village below. Something within his chest began to stir, an unsettling feeling like an itch you can’t scratch. He thought of his siblings down there among the dead and dying, of how helpless he felt trapped up there in that room. The novelty of it all had worn off rather quickly, much to his displeasure.   
      “You alright?” a voice called from behind. Ed turned around to find Nefyn at bedside, pouring various liquids into a small beaker and stirring with a glass stick until the colors combined into a dark sludge.   
      “I’ve been better” Edmund replied, trudging back toward his friend. “And apparently so has that. What is even in that?” The closer he came, the more powerful the smell grew until he had no choice but to cup his hand over his mouth.   
      “I’ve been working on a new remedy for those god-awful buboes. This is just one of the many attempts” she explained. The centaurette stared at the beaker with great concentration, as if at any moment it would explode or vanish into thin air. “Fingers crossed this time it actually works!”   
      Edmund chuckled as he sat adjacent, crossing his legs at the edge of the bed. “How many other mixtures have you tried?”   
      “Eighteen” she said bluntly.   
      “And none of them worked?”   
      Nefyn shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Buboes seem to be a rather tricky thing to get rid of. Not that there isn’t already a way to get rid of them. I’m just trying to create something more…effective.”   
      A small smile graced the just king’s lips. “I’m sure you’ll get it this time, then.”   
      “You think so?” Nefyn asked, finally looking up from her work. Edmund nodded. The sincerity in his eyes made her heart skip a beat, filling her with great joy. “Thank you, Edmund. That really means a lot to me” she then said, resting a hand on top of his knee. Blood rushed to Ed’s cheeks but he tried his best to hide it. “You know” she then continued, “I’m really grateful the duke assigned me to look after you– and that my father approved. It feels nice to be in charge of something for once.”   
      Edmund cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”   
      Nefyn cheeks reddened as she shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just that…sometimes I feel like my dad doesn’t trust me enough to take care of things on my own. Like he doesn’t think I’m good enough, always needing constant supervision and strict direction. He doesn’t believe in new achievements in the medicinal community, which means my experimentation really ticks him off. My father is very…by the book, so to speak.”   
     “But what about illnesses without any cures yet? I thought finding treatments for stuff like that was a good thing” Edmund inquired.   
      “It is” Nefyn nodded. “I guess with my father, that sort of stuff falls into a bit of a grey area. For ailments without any known cures, he tends to focus more on treating the symptoms rather than the cause, as if that’s going to cure people. He tries his best to stick to the ancient ways which is great and all– if it’s not broken, don’t fix it, you know? They’ve worked well enough for centuries, so he doesn’t see any point in changing them. What he doesn’t understand is that there are so many better ways we can do things, so many great advancements and more effective medicines to mix. After all, we can’t live in the past forever, you know?”   
       Edmund nodded. “I know what you mean. There are people who think the exact same way in my world, too. Or at least, the world I came from. People who hate progression and want to keep living in the past.”   
      “It’s so frustrating!” Nefyn replied. “It’s one of the many things my father and I disagree on. I think my passion for it all makes him rather nervous.”   
      “How so?”   
      The centaurette sighed and ran her hands through her thick, dark hair. “I’m my father’s only child. He’s getting older and I know he’s grooming me to take over the family business after he’s gone. I’m the only possible heir, he’s counting on me to carry on the family tradition. But in his eyes, progress and tradition don’t mix. I think he fears I’ll screw things up, ruin the constant plateau of a reputation we’ve upheld for centuries. I don’t know, I just wish I could make him understand. I just want him to see that change isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”   
       “Then prove it to him” Edmund replied. “Show him you know what you’re doing, and that what you’re doing is for the greater good. He can’t argue with something that benefits everyone. If he does, he’s not very good at his job then, is he?”   
       Nefyn smiled and grasped Edmund’s hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. “You’re right, Ed. I need to really show him what I’ve got.” Resting her free hand at the back of his neck, she leaned in close and rested her forehead against his. “Thank you again, Edmund. For being such a good friend. I really cherish your companionship.”   
      By now, Edmund’s cheeks were burning hot. With Nefyn’s face so close to his, he could feel her breath on his bottom lip and fingertips against his bare skin. A strong tingle filtered down from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, like nothing he had ever felt before. He pasted a cheesy grin against his lips and laughed softly. “I’m glad to have been of service” was all he could say before Nefyn pulled away.  
      In a flurry of inspiration, she began gathering up her potions bottles and jotting things down on scraps of parchment beneath her cart. “When my father returns for the night, I’ll present him with this medicine and the recipe for it and show him what I’m really worth. If it does actually work, there’s no way he can deny me!” she rambled excitedly.  
      “Why stop there?” Edmund replied. “Why not try to treat the whole sickness, not just a part?”   
      Nefyn’s face grew sallow. “Oh, Ed, I don’t know if I could do that. It’s too huge. I’m not skilled enough to manage a task so great.”   
      “Nonsense!” the just king explained. “I think you can do it.”   
      “…I think you must have a fever” Nefyn replied, jamming the back of her hand against Edmund’s forehead. The just wrinkled his nose and ducked his head out from under her hand.   
      “I don’t have a fever, Nefyn. I feel fine. And I know you can do this!” he said. The centaurette eyed him suspiciously. “You can do this. I’m sure of it. You’re smart. You can figure it out.”   
       Nefyn sighed and rolled her eyes, not convinced. “Will you be alright here on your own if I leave you for a while?”   
       “Where are you going?” Edmund asked. Panic suddenly bubbled up from deep within his chest, terrified he had upset her in some way. He really didn’t want her to leave because of something so petty and stupid.   
       “I have some things to sort out, Ed. I’ll be back soon, though, I promise” she replied. “Unless you don’t think you’ll manage alright on your own?”   
      “I’ll be alright. After all, it is just a scrape” Edmund replied.   
       With a roll of her eyes, his friend replied, “I know that, smartass! I mean mentally. Are you going to be bored if I leave you?”   
      Edmund blinked and shook his head. “I think I can manage. I’ll find somehow to keep myself occupied. You seem to forget you’re talking to the same person who spent a good chunk of time in the White Witch’s prison. At least this place has a fully stocked bookshelf, and I can always sneak out to the common room to take a crack at that chess table” he replied.   
      A half-grin graced Nefyn’s lips as she nodded. “Good, I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you getting too bored and trying to break out of here or something. I don’t plan on losing any patient of mine, runaway or otherwise!”   
      As the days wore on, the Pevensies committed themselves to helping Galma. They rose and set along with the sun, spending many an hour in the heat trying to treat the sick and properly dispose of the dying. Peter’s heart broke for the loss of so many people, getting to know some of them personally. He began truly rooting for them, encouraging them to stay strong and keep going. Despite the grin pasted on his face, however, he had a hard time encouraging himself to stay strong. Every day was filled with grave tragedy and it was slowly beginning to chip away at him.   
      In the privacy of the duke’s estate, Peter didn’t have to be strong for anyone. He let himself crash into nearby chair and buried his face in his hands, exhausted.   
      “Long day?” a voice called from behind. Peter picked his head up to find Edmund in the doorway, a book tucked under his arm.   
      “Yeah” the magnificent nodding, ushering his younger brother to join him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the room?”   
      “Well, technically it’s the estate I’m not supposed to leave” he explained. “But being stuck up here has given me a lot of time to think about things and, well, I might be able to help you guys without actually going down there with you all.” Peter cocked an eyebrow in interest, urging his brother to go on. “Eilonwy said the only way to really cure everyone would be to get to the root of the sickness, right?” Peter nodded. “Well, Nefyn said her father has never seen a disease like this before–”  
      “That’s concerning” Peter interrupted.   
      “–But that doesn’t mean we haven’t!” Edmund exclaimed.   
      “What do you mean?” asked Peter.   
      “Think about it, Pete: the Galmans have puss-swelled buboes, fevers, and lethargy, right?” Edmund began. The eldest nodded. Edmund rose his brows, waiting for the magnificent to catch on, but to no avail. Peter was far too tired for critical thinking. With a sigh, Edmund explained, “Those are the same symptoms as bubonic plague. The plague was transmitted through rats, which there are apparently a lot of on Galma.”   
      “Okay…” Peter said with uncertainty. “So what are we supposed to do? We can’t just get rid of the rats, there’s too many. We’d never be able to pull that off.”   
      The just king shook his head. “Of course not. We need to kill this at the source. The source being fleas. Infected fleas live on rats which spread the disease to the people who then die. In order to stop the death, we need to stop the fleas.”   
      The High King simply nodded, furrowing his brow in thought. “What about pesticides?” he asked after a moment of contemplation. “Pesticides should work, right? Spread them through the island, kill the rats and the fleas on them, then cure the people.”   
      “Nefyn is going to work on something like that” Edmund added. “I’ve shared my findings and talked with her about it in the past few days while you’ve all been gone, and I fully put my trust in her. She knows a lot about medicine, maybe even more than her father does. I’m sure she can come up with something great.”   
       “Good” Peter nodded. “I’ll go find the others and see what they think of all this. I’m sure they won’t be able to argue with your research. Thanks again, Ed.” Peter spoke as he rose and made his way toward the hall. Edmund simply nodded before settling into a nearby chaise and propping open his book.   
      As the Pevensies returned from another day of making the rounds, Nefyn rushed out to the common room, face painted with urgency. “Lucy! I need you to do me a massive favor” she exclaimed, skidding to a halt beside the valiant queen. “I need you to bring me a rat.”   
      “A rat?” Peter questioned. Nefyn nodded.   
      “I need a live rat to test on. The only way I’m going to find out if my concoction really exterminates the source of the problem is if I test on a live, infected rat. We’re just that much closer to ending this epidemic once and for all” the centaurette replied. Peter was wary, but her tone was so full of hope he had a hard time denying her request.   
      “I’ll do it” a voice interrupted, and Eilonwy stepped up. “I’d rather risk my own health rather than Lucy’s. She’s done enough hard work, she doesn’t deserve to go into the fray and nearly kill herself like that. Let me do it.”   
      “Whoa, wait, Eilonwy–!” Peter shouted but the huntress cut him off before he could finish.   
      “It’s alright, Peter. I’m a big girl. I can do this.”  
      Lucy looked up at the huntress with wide eyes. “Eilonwy, you don’t have to do this. I can manage just fine on my own.”   
      Eilonwy rested a hand on the valiant’s shoulder and shook her head. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I want to. Please, do I have your permission?”   
      Reluctantly, Lucy nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around the huntress’s waist. “Please be careful, though!” she replied, voice muffled in the huntress’s skirts. “And here, please take this” Lucy then added. She unfastened her cordial from it’s spot on her belt and handed it up to the maiden with gleaming eyes.   
      “Oh, Lucy, I couldn’t possibly–” Eilonwy protested but the littlest Pevensie insisted.   
      “I’d rather you keep it just in case. You don’t deserve to nearly kill yourself, either” said Lucy. A soft smile spread across Eilonwy’s lips as she leaned down and hugged the young queen, awkwardly but a hug nonetheless, murmuring a thank you in her ear.   
      “I’ll be back by sunrise. Don’t wait up for me” Eilonwy replied, fastening her cloak around her neck. The red hugged her body as the exterior cloaked her completely, thinking it best she try to be as invisible as possible. The darkness could only do so much.   
      “You’re sure you want to do this?” Peter asked. His blue eyes were filled with worry, hands unsteady as he gifted her the cordial.   
      “Sure as ever” the huntress replied.   
      “Stay safe out there” Edmund said, arms crossed in concern. He knew this wasn’t the most ideal mission– for anyone– but he had great respect for Eilonwy’s volunteering. And from what he had seen of her ability, he had faith she could certainly handle this.    
      “Remember, Eilonwy: all we need is an infected rat. You’ll likely find them in sewers and lurking through allyways. Dark places. Use as little light to navigate as possible” Nefyn instructed.   
       “Believe me, with this cloak, I don’t think I’d be stupid enough to draw attention to myself like that. I’ve spent way more years than you can imagine hunting things. I think I’ll be fine” Eilonwy reassured. She glanced to the centaurette and each of the Pevensies before sucking in a deep breath and giving a single nod. “Alright then. Here goes nothing. I’ll be back by dawn, and if not, don’t search for me. I’ll either make my way back on my own or you’ll find me dead in the streets. Either way, you’ll see me” she spoke, only half joking. Not knowing what else to say, Eilonwy awkwardly smiled, saluted goodbye, and turned to depart into the dark village below.   
      As she descended the stairs, however, a voice behind captured her attention. She whipped around to find an all too familiar figure rushing toward her. Before she could reject the advance, a strong pair of arms embraced her, warm breath on the back of her neck. “Please stay safe…” Peter whispered, squeezing her tightly before withdrawing.   
      “P-Peter, I’ll be fine. Don’t…don’t be such a sentimental idiot” she whispered back, but not because she was afraid of making noise. She whispered more because she had no other choice. The surprise encounter left her disgustingly breathless– she didn’t have the strength to speak any louder. She prayed he couldn’t feel her heart racing from against his chest.   
      The high king reluctantly released his grip but before leaving, she felt his breath against her skin and then, hesitantly, his lips brush against her cheek. All the blood rushed to her face as he whispered a soft “Take care of yourself” and then ran off.   
      _Fucking great_ , Eilonwy thought to herself, watching his shadow saunter off in the moonlight. _Just what I need: a big, fat distraction_. Heaving a sigh, she turned on her heels, threw her hood up over her head, and descended into the abyss of death and darkness.   
      “Why hasn’t she come back yet? What could possibly be taking her so long? How hard can it be to capture a stupid little rat?” Peter argued, pacing the room.   
     “I’m sure Eilonwy’s fine” Susan reassured. She extended a hand to rest upon his shoulder but he walked away before she could reach him. Lucy peered back over her shoulder, frowning at her brother’s panic. She, too, was worried about Eilonwy’s safety, but knew the only thing they could really do was wait. Like Eilonwy said, she’d return or be dead but either way, they’d find her again. She truly hoped for the former.   
      Peter’s eyes crossed the room to land on his younger brother leaning back in a dining chair, one hand stuffing pastries in his mouth while the other held a worn leather book. “Ed, how can you eat at a time like this? And what on earth are you reading?” he asked, almost accusatorily. Edmund glanced up from his novel, eyebrow raised.   
      “I can eat because I’m hungry and I’m reading because there’s not much else to do when you’ve been on lockdown” he replied sassily.   
      “Edmund, what are you reading?” Lucy asked, tone curious, cocking her head in hopes of making out the title. Her efforts were to no avail, however. The title had worn off long ago, nothing left but the imprint of words she couldn’t quite decipher.   
      The just king shrugged, licking the powdered sugar off his fingers. “Some spy novel. Not nearly as good as the ones in England, though. The detective is some mole who can’t even see. Kind of like Sherlock Holmes but blind and stupid” he replied flippantly. The littlest Pevensie chuckled softly before gazing back out upon the village below. It was then, however, that she noticed something approaching from the distance.   
      “Peter! Susan! Edmund! Look!” she shouted excitedly, pointing toward the base of the stairs. The three rushed forward to find none other than Eilonwy trudging up to them, cloak hanging off her shoulder and face pale with exhaustion. Peter immediately pushed past everyone and raced down toward his friend, elated to see she was really alive.   
      “Cut the happy tears, Peter. I’m sick and I’m tired. Just take the stupid rat and let me sleep” Eilonwy muttered as she ascended. Despite Peter’s desperation to just wrap his arms around her and hold her close, she shoved him away and didn’t even so much as look at him. As she reached the top of the stairs, she unfastened a little cage hooked to her belt and threw it toward Nefyn in aggravation, the little rat squealing from inside and gnawing at the wooden bars.   
     The centaurette grinned wildly as she inspected the little beast, the perfect specimen, before thanking Eilonwy profusely. “There must be some way I can repay you!” she rambled, but Eilonwy simply shook her head.  
   “Just let me sleep for fifteen billion years and we’ll be even” she replied tiredly, uncapping Lucy’s cordial and taking a dramatic sip for good measure. She handed the bottle back to the valiant as she trudged toward the residential hall, slamming her chamber door shut at the end of the corridor. Curled up in bed, she prayed that she would never have to hear of or speak of such a night ever again.   
    Nefyn spent the entire rest of the day monitoring and experimenting with the little rat in her chamber, logging the medicine’s effects in hopes that she was successful in her scientific endeavors. As night fell over the island, she took one last test and…  
  “YES!!”  
   Uproarious shouts and the pounding of hooves echoed down the hallway as Nefyn barged out of the room squealing in a half-horse-half-human manner. Her shouts and bellows woke up everyone in the estate, some to much chagrin, all trudging sleepily into the common room.   
     “Mmm…Nefyn? What’s this all about?” Susan murmured, rubbing her eyes awake. The centaurette grinned wildly, stamping her hooves. In her hands was a blue glass bottle with a wooden tag tied around the neck.   
     “I’ve done it! I’ve finally created something that works!” she squealed.   
      Edmund’s eyes lit up and a soft chuckle broke free from his lips, overflowing with happiness and pride.   
      “But how do you suppose you’ll manage to administer it to every rat on the island?” Eilonwy questioned. Nefyn’s smile quickly dimmed.   
      “Oh…okay, well I didn’t think of that” she muttered, eyes downcast. Edmund shot the huntress a glare before slowly approaching his friend. He hoped he’d figure out some comforting gesture on his way over but by the time he reached her, he still hadn’t come up with anything, so he settled on just standing beside her somewhat awkwardly.   
      “What about the sewers?” Lucy proposed. “Rats live in sewers. You could spread the medicine through the sewers, or in whatever it is that rats eat, and then when they consume it, it should cure them of whatever disease they’re carrying, right?”   
      Now the centaur’s smile brightened and she tightened her grip a bit more on the bottle. “That might just work, your majesty!” she spoke. Chocolate eyes leapt from each of the Pevensies tired faces in search of approval but all she really received was exhaustion. “You know what? Why don’t you all go back to sleep? I’ll have a plan to present to you all by breakfast” she added. Without hesitation, everyone nodded and headed back to their chambers but as they departed, Nefyn reached out to grasp Edmund by the forearm. The just king gazed back at her in surprise, unsure of what she was going to say. A soft smile unlike the one before touched her lips as she whispered a tender, “Thank you, Ed, for believing in me” before kissing his cheek and releasing him from her grip. Edmund floated back to bed in a haze, his skin tingling where her lips had touched. As he fell asleep that night, he dreamt of nothing but happy things. 

* * *

     “It is with great pride and immense pleasure that I issue the highest of honors to our phenomenal new friends” the duke announced. His round cheeks shined in the sunlight, deep creases forming at the corner of his lips from smiling so wide. The Pevensies, in their finest attire, stood beside him on a brick-laden stage before the citizens of Galma, laying eyes upon their newly brightened faces. Flowers fell across Nefyn’s collarbone and breast, baby’s breath and plumerias braided into her hair, as she proudly watched from the sidelines. The duke extended a hand to the other end of the stage, ushering a small, stout faun to approach carrying a thick pillow in his hands. Atop the velvet sat five gleaming medals embossed with the Galman crest, each strung onto a different colored ribbon. The lord raised the orange one first and motioned for Lucy to step forward, whose eyes lit up as she scampered near.   
      “For her acts of unwavering valor and compassion, I present unto thee, Queen Lucy of Narnia, our medal of honor” the lord announced. He draped the token around her neck and smiled brightly upon her, his fat face like that of the sun itself, and squeezed her little hands in his. Then, his beady eyes turned to Nefyn, ushering her forward. The centaurette gazed back at her father first, uncertain, but with arms crossed he nodded approvingly and his young protege sauntered up.   
      “For her astounding scientific advancements and resilience to improve her craft, I present unto thee, Miss Nefyn of Narnia, our medal of achievement” the lord announced, then presented the young medic with her own medal strung along a purple ribbon. Nefyn bowed her head in respect, whispered a soft _thank you_ , and returned to her father’s side beaming.   
      The rest of the Pevensies were presented with generic medals of freedom to signify their new alliance, the crowds cheering in gratitude for all that they had done. Looking upon the Galmans now happy and healthy, however, Peter felt a shred of guilt twist in his chest. He hadn’t done anything even remotely heroic. He didn’t deserve such an award. It was meaningless to him. Lucy and Nefyn were the real heroes, they were the ones worthy of such praise. As he glanced to Susan and Edmund at his side, they shared a familiar expression, silently signifying that they, too, felt the same. However, there was no way they could reject the duke’s gifts. They were signs of respect, tokens of friendship. Should they refuse to accept them, they would be refusing the lord’s hospitality and future help. As an executive decision, the Pevensies would shut up for their own good.   
      The setting sun painted the sky like rainbow sherbet as the duke’s men loaded the Pevensie’s luggage back onto the Splendor Hyaline. The High King gazed out upon the ocean from the highest deck, Narnia’s shores just hazily visible in the distance.   
      “Well, this was quite an adventure” Eilonwy approached from behind. Leaning against the boat, she looked to Peter in hopes of a response. His eyes were so stony and concentrated, deep in thought. The corner of his mouth jerked upward with a shake of his head as he turned his back to the Great Eastern Sea.   
      “Yeah, I suppose” he replied, tone stale.   
      “Something bothering you?” the maiden asked, not skipping a beat.   
      “I hate how you’re so goddamn perceptive” Peter chuckled, rolling his eyes. Then, with a sigh, continued, “It’s just all been a very wild past couple of weeks. It’s difficult to let sink in, I guess.”  
      “Understandable” Eilonwy nodded. “We have kind of been through hell and back. But no more so than Lucy.” The huntress jerked her head toward the littlest queen, still down on the dock saying goodbye personally to a select few people. Peter recognized them as some of the deathly ill she had helped care for on their rounds through the village. It was so strange seeing them all so healthy and bright-eyed now. He desperately hoped things would stay that way. He didn’t think he could stomach a repeat of the past fortnight.   
      Down below, Edmund watched as the men loaded the last of their trunks aboard the Splendor Hyaline. The just’s eyes frantically scoured the crowd for his good friend, wishing to see her one last time before his departure. Just as before, Nefyn and her father were assigned to travel elsewhere in order to help yet another needy country. Though he knew it was selfish of him, he was terrified of never seeing her again, especially after all they had been through together.   
      “Coming aboard, your majesty?” a voice called from behind. Edmund nodded to the crew member on deck, a sigh escaping his lips as he slowly forced himself to come to terms with the fact he may not get to say goodbye. As he trudged up the ramp, however, something soft suddenly thwacked the back of his neck. Turning around, he found none other than Nefyn waving at him from amidst the crowd.   
      “We have to stop meeting like this!” she called to him jokingly. Edmund shook his head with a laugh and grinned.   
      “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again!” he replied back.   
      “And miss all this? Not in a million! I couldn’t stand not to say goodbye to a friend!” she shouted. The ship’s men urged Edmund aboard as they raised the anchor and began prepping to set sail.   
      “When will I see you again?” Edmund finally blurted.   
      “Just call on me next time you trip over a dead guy!” Nefyn yelled, now cupping her hands over her mouth to better project her voice. Though growing further and further apart, she could see Edmund’s cheeks redden and a wide smile spread across her face.  
      “Stay safe out there!” the just king shouted back, praying she could hear him. She shouted something in reply but by now was far too distant for him to make out the words. He kept his eyes locked on her until she disappeared, contributing to the mass of faceless shapes crowding the marina. The corners of his lips turned downward as he kicked at the end of a coil of rope, defeated. His scrape, now barely visible, was all he had left of his time spent on Galma with her. Turning toward the bow of the boat, he saw his family gathered together to admire the sunset. Heaving a sigh, he straightened his back and rushed to join them. Though his situation was not ideal, he would never have traded his time in quarantine for anything else in the world. Now that was all finished, however, and as he stood beside his siblings gazing out to the sea, he had to remind himself that this may have been the end of one adventure but was only the beginning of many more.


	6. VOL 1, EP. 5: Edmund's Spy Corporation

      Blue eyes, but dark circles. Golden hair, but an absolute mess. The High King sucked in a deep breath and straightened his crown, scrutinizing his reflection. Not even the warm glow of midmorning sunlight could soften his dreary complexion. He glanced to the clock– 10:13am– and cursed under his breath for taking so long. He would’ve expected Susan or Lucy, even Eilonwy, to take longer freshening up than himself. But alas, as he swung open the double doors and stepped into the grand hall, all eyes fell on him. 

      “There you are, Peter!” Lucy exclaimed, a grin spreading across her lips. Peter envied how bright and peppy she was in the mornings, as if she had an IV of caffeine constantly piping energy straight into her bloodstream.   
      “What took you so long?” Susan inquired. She eyed her older brother with criticism, certain that there was something amiss. It was unlike Peter to run so late, especially now with so many kingly duties to uphold. He prided himself on punctuality yet he was hardly punctual anymore, it seemed.   
      “I told them maybe you got sucked down the toilet” Edmund jested. For someone who had a history of liking mornings the least, the just king seemed awfully energetic. A small seed of suspicion rooted itself in Peter’s chest.   
      “Sorry. I got a little distracted, I guess” Peter muttered, eyes locked on the papers he was spreading out across the long dining table. “We’ve got a lot to cover today, though, so we might as well get right into it. First things first, the Lord of Maldonado is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning so I expect us all to be on our best behavior and make the nobles feel as welcome as possible. It is my greatest hope that we can forge yet another alliance with one of the islands. And speaking of islands, Galma wanted to formally thank us for our assistance with the plague. The duke sent a handwritten letter along with a large basket of treats to firmly set our alliance.” Magnificent eyes glanced up from the letter, scanning the room to find Edmund raising his hand high. “Yes, Ed?”   
      “Pete, speaking of Galma, I’ve had something I’ve wanted to talk with you about– all of you– that I–” Edmund began, but was quickly interrupted.   
      “Are you and Nefyn officially dating?!” Lucy squealed in delight. Edmund’s cheeks glowed bright red.   
      “Lu, no! Stop it! That’s not– that has nothing to do with this!” the just stammered. Lucy simply shrugged and giggled, muttering a halfhearted _sorry_. Edmund knew she wasn’t. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he then continued. “While I was quarantined, I had a lot of spare time and not a lot to do but I started thinking about those stupid mysteries the duke had on his bookshelf, the one about the blind Sherlock Holmes mole, and I got this idea: why not establish a spy corporation? Narnia’s own band of spies!”   
      The just king was met with a few beats of silence, a handful of blank stares. Peter furrowed his brow in deep thought, Susan poked her index finger to the corner of her mouth, and Lucy glanced from each of her siblings expectantly. Finally, it was an unexpected voice who broke the silence.   
      “But why?” the faun asked from the other end of the table. Tumnus looked to each of the monarchs, head cocked to the side, genuinely curious. As royal advisor, Tumnus had a duty to attend every royal meeting along with all the other council members the Pevensies (and Aslan) had appointed. For the past few months, he had remained relatively silent save for the rapid scribbling of his pen to parchment. Hence why, when he spoke up, it came as even more of a shock.   
      Edmund stumbled over his words, trying to find a way to explain the significance of his proposal. It was clear as day to him, at least, why it was such a good idea. He expected it to be obvious to everyone else, as well. He looked to his siblings for backup but they said nothing, further escalating his anxiety. “Well, because…” he began slowly, cautiously, praying he could piece together a coherent explanation. “We can’t always trust everyone we meet, or everyone who asks for our alliances. With a spy corporation, we’d be able to keep tabs on anyone who approaches us, do background checks, ensure they’re not just playing some sort of game in an attempt to crush Narnia from the inside.” Clasping his hands under the table, Edmund glanced around the table awaiting a response. A few moments of silence passed before a scoff was heard from the other end of the table.   
      Professor Arcadian, the royals’ tutor, rolled his eyes and knitted his brows together in dismay. “A novice idea, at best” he scoffed. Peter’s eyes darted to the faun, harsh and offended.   
      “And what of it, Professor? Do you have anything better in mind?” Peter shot back.   
      The faun crossed his arms and stared down at the High King. “I just find it hard to trust ideas of spies from someone of a rather…treacherous past” Arcadian commented. A thin veil of understanding suddenly fell across the rest of the room as other council members piped up in agreement. After all, it was common knowledge that Edmund had betrayed them all and gave Jadis supreme intel at the risk of his family. King or not, his past is irrevocable. How could they know he ever truly changed?   
      Soon the mutterings increased to an absolute uproar of shouts and accusations, leading Edmund to shrink down in his seat in vain. Lucy eyed him sympathetically from across the table, gaze like daggers to those shouting in protest. Peter slammed his fist on the table, commanding silence, but he could only do so much. It was the valiant whose voice rang the loudest, high-pitched and surprising. The council scarcely expected such a demanding yell from such a tiny girl, and in such an unexpected way, as well.   
      “Edmund has done nothing wrong! And anything he may have done in the past shouldn’t impact his future!” Lucy scolded. “Despite any harm he may have done to you all with the White Witch, I know my brother. I know he’s truly sorry and regrets every bit of it, and would love more than anything to move past what’s happened and instead focus on what will happen.”   
      Susan nodded with a soft smile, clapping lightly for her baby sister and laying sympathetic eyes upon Edmund. Peter thanked the young queen, ushering her to take her seat, and then looked to the rest of the council with stony eyes. “Well, I think we’ve made our stance perfectly clear.”   
      “As have we!” Arcadian shouted back. The gruff faun stood, palms planted firmly to the tabletop, and stared the High King down at the end of the room. “We refuse to budge on our opinion. Our vote is a solid no.”   
      Gritting his teeth, Peter gazed to the rest of the council for validation. Many averted their eyes, too weak to straightforwardly agree. Tumnus and the Beavers were practically the only ones to decline the mob mentality, standing firmly beside their kings and queens. While Tumnus may not have fully understood Edmund’s perspective, he knew the just king was wildly intelligent and trusted that he knew what he was doing. The Beavers felt exactly the same, Mrs. Beaver toddling over to place a comforting paw upon Edmund’s forearm.   
      “You may have gained three more positive votes, but the math still stands firm. We outnumber you. The answer is a no” Arcadian pressed. Peter searched the faces of those who stood beside him, and those behind the faun. It was seven against fourteen. The odds were impossible.   
      With a reluctant sigh, Peter turned to his brother and whispered, “I’m sorry, Ed. It’s a no.” Edmund’s gaze dropped to the floor, more embarassed than anything. How could he have been so stupid as to think anyone would want to listen to him? Especially regarding such a thing as this? Spies. Of course the traitor would want to start spying on everyone. Next thing they’d know, the just would be turning his back on his country, selling his siblings down the river, taking over Narnia all for himself like some cruel, heartless dictator. Or at least that’s what everyone seemed to think. If only there was a way to prove to his people that he was not driven by ulterior motives but, in fact, the opposite. He chewed over the thoughts for the rest of the day.   
      Distant waves lapped against the Narnian shores, their consistent roar faintly echoing through the gardens. Edmund weaved through rows of shrubberies, running his fingers against the rough bark and inhaling the tangy scent of plump oranges weighing down the branches. He cherished the alone time, yet also wished for someone to speak to, though he knew no one could ever understand. He was a lonely traitor, mended but muted. He was a threat, a venomous beast that must be monitored constantly should he snap and attack. They probably felt lucky he was under Peter in the heirarchy, that his abilities were limited by the high king. A defeated sigh.   
      As Edmund reached the edge of the gardens, he leaned against the marble wall and looked out upon the Eastern Sea. He thought about Nefyn, where her and her father must be by now, all the philanthropic work they’d be doing. Deep down, he desperately wished she was with him. The centaurette seemed to be the only person who truly appreciated and understood him, his dearest friend. Certainly she would stand by him and rally for him, just as he did for her. Perhaps if he wrote her a letter, asked for her help, an eye for an eye, return the favor, then maybe…  
      “Lost in thought, I assume?” a voice called from behind. For a moment, Edmund was so deep in his thoughts that he nearly mistook the girl for Nefyn herself but was sorely disappointed to find none other than Eilonwy growing near.   
      “How did you guess?” Ed shrugged.   
      “Simple, really. This seems to be where everyone comes to have a think. I know I do” she replied. Flanking him, she leaned her elbows against the barrier and sucked in a deep breath. “Beautiful day at sea, isn’t it?”   
      Edmund nodded, but Eilonwy could tell he wasn’t really in the mood for small talk. The undertones of annoyance in his expression gave him away almost immediately. “I wish I was out at sea” he mumbled.   
      The huntress nodded. “Off with Nefyn I presume?” she joked, elbowing him lightly in the side. Edmund rolled his eyes, prompting the girl to shake her head. “I’m kidding. I know how you feel about her.”  
      “You do?” the just asked, disbelief and panic coating his voice. Eilonwy nodded.   
      “You care for her deeply, but she’s just a friend. That’s all she’ll ever be, and you’re content with that. I understand completely” she replied. Something in the way she spoke gave Edmund the sneaking suspicion that she was speaking from experience, and he was almost tempted to ask her to elaborate but rightly restrained himself. He didn’t want to pry. That seemed to be rather expected of him these days.  
      After a few subsequent beats of silence, Edmund shook his head and turned his back to Eilonwy. “You know, if you came out here to express some sort of fake sympathy, you can just be on your way” he said sourly. Eilonwy gasped, but not in offense.   
      “Oh, well my apologies, your majesty! I was unaware that fake sympathy was in abundant supply today, if any sympathy at all” she replied sarcastically. “Listen, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I heard what happened in council today and, well…I guess you could say I’m feeling realistically sympathetic.”   
      “But you don’t have to do this…” Edmund started but the huntress held up a hand and shook her head.   
      “It’s not a matter of obligation but a matter of desire. I _want_ to make sure you’re alright. Nobody ever said I had to” she explained. An obscure chuckle broke free of her lips, highlighting her crooked teeth and the creases at the corners of her lips. “But really, what those councilmen said this morning was absolutely horrible. You deserve to be heard and taken seriously just as much as your brother and sisters do. Your past doesn’t have to define you, but it’s hard when they won’t seem to let it pass.” There was a strange ingenuity to her in those moments that took Edmund off guard, something he wasn’t sure he had ever really seen in her before. He liked it, though. It was comforting in a strange and unconventional kind of way.   
      “Well…thank you” Edmund slowly replied. “I just hope they’re more open to listen to the next idea I might propose.”   
      “Why?” Eilonwy cocked her head. “I mean, what’s the matter with this one? You’re not going to let them get away with this, are you? Don’t tell me you’re backing down.”   
      The just king averted his eyes, gave a halfhearted shrug. It wasn’t that he thought of this as unimportant, he just found it very difficult to convince an already stubborn council on something of such substance. Especially with his background.   
      Eilonwy furrowed her brows and gripped the edge of the marble railing. “If you let them win this fight, whose to say they’ll accept any of your other ideas? Hmm? You’ll already have been kicked down to your knees. If you let them degrade you, they’ll never let you get back up again. A king is nothing without the support of his council” Eilonwy replied. While appreciative for her blunt delivery, Edmund wasn’t fond of the idea. He didn’t want to think Narnia’s nobles were against him but Eilonwy knew far more about this country’s politics than he did, so why shouldn’t he trust her judgment? A moment of silence passed before Eilonwy tilted her head to the sun and sighed. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Edmund. After all, you are a king and I’m nothing but a washed up wayward. The decision is yours, I just hope you make the right one.” A halfhearted smile touched her lips a moment before she gave a nod and sauntered back off toward the castle. Edmund watched her leave with a lump lodged firmly in his throat. With a soft groan, he turned his back to Cair Paravel and buried his face in his hands.   
      Sleep did not come easily for Edmund that night. The constant ticking of his grandfather clock kept time as he tossed and turned, unwelcome thoughts prodding at his brain. He threw his pillow over his face in hopes that it would block out the distractions but not even that could silence his weary mind. As he lay there flat on his back, tired eyes staring up at the ceiling, a sudden tapping noise captured his attention. It was strange and discomforting, like a finger lightly rapping against glass. Concerned, Edmund rolled onto his side to better view his window, assuming it was just a rogue branch in the breeze. Instead, he caught sight of a strange silhouette in the moonlight. As he crept closer, the shape began to take form as a raven perched atop the tree, beak against the glass. Though it was too dark to read the time, Edmund knew well enough that it was far too late for a wake-up call from some pesky bird.   
      “Shoo! Get out of here!” he called, creaking open the window and flinging his hands. The bird cocked it’s head but otherwise stayed deathly still. And the more the bird stared at him, the more Edmund began to fear the possibility of death itself. Obviously the king knew that a silly little bird couldn’t possibly kill him, but ravens were always shown as omens of death and the fact one came to him during an already trying time was unnerving at best. Increasingly fed up with the bird’s stubbornness, Edmund reached over to his bedside table to snatch the core of a leftover apple he had snacked on earlier. Winding up, he narrowed his eyes at the bird and then launched the apple core right at him. Of course, one of Edmund’s many faults was that he had terrible aim and so the core barely grazed the bird’s cheek before slamming against the trunk of the tree and tumbling to the ground below. “Bollocks!” Edmund cursed under his breath.   
      The bird jumped in surprise, feathers ruffled, before shaking it’s head and cawing softly. “For a king, you’re not a very good marksman!” a voice suddenly exclaimed. Edmund froze, slowly turning to face the raven.   
      “W-was that…was that you…that just spoke?” Edmund asked slowly, cautiously. Obviously he knew many a Narnian creature was intelligent enough to speak but something about this still seemed to catch him by surprise.   
      The raven cawed comically, as if laughing, and ruffled his feathers again. “Well, who else might it be? The great lion himself?”   
      “Who are you? And why are you here?” Edmund asked, shuffling nearer. “Are you here to tell me I’m going to die?” he then added in a whisper. The raven laughed again, causing Edmund’s cheeks to turn fifty shades of red.   
      “Why ever would I do such a thing as that?” he asked in laughter.   
      “Haven’t you ever read Poe? The Raven? Oh, of course you haven’t. Birds don’t read” Edmund replied, waving the thing off. The raven flapped his wings for a moment, lifting his body a few inches off the branch, before settling himself down on the windowsill.   
      “To answer your earlier question, my liege, I am Sallowpad of the Western Wood. I sensed distress, as ravens are rather sensitive creatures, and came to inspect the situation. You seem troubled, my king” Sallowpad explained. Edmund blinked, then rubbed his eyes.   
      “I must be dreaming…” he muttered to himself. There was no other possible explanation. He must’ve fallen asleep and all of the thoughts plaguing his brain had accumulated into one very vivid but very bizarre dream. Sallowpad cocked his head to the opposite side this time, blinking as he watched the young king try to comprehend the scene, then alighted to his shoulder and pecked at his arm lightly. Even with his nightshirt on, the sharp break felt like a needle pricking his skin and he quickly flailed the creature away with a quiet shout of “Hey, stop that!”   
      “My sincerest apologies, my king. A punch of reality is the quickest cure for the mania of fantasy, after all! I just wanted to provide evidence to negate your belief that this is, somehow, a dream” Sallowpad explained, returning to the windowsill. “Now, what seems to be troubling you?”   
      “Well, more recently, my arm!” Edmund shot back, rubbing his forearm. He eyed the bird skeptically, unsure of whether he should trust the creature. He hadn’t exactly had the best of luck explaining his problems to strangers in this country. The bird was stubborn, however, and continued to stare at him until the king gave him an answer. With a sigh, Edmund surrendered. “Fine. It’s just…nobody trusts me around here. I’ve got this great idea, one that could really help this country’s security, but all anyone ever sees in me is a traitor.”   
      “I see…” Sallowpad replied thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps I can help. What is this brilliant idea of yours?”   
      “I’m not so sure I should tell you, of all creatures…” Edmund said slowly. Sallowpad narrowed his eyes as if he was offended, demanding a reason. “It’s not that I don’t trust you! It’s just…I don’t know you” he panicked.   
      “I am Sallowpad of the Western Woods” the raven repeated. “You know my name and origin. You know my face and my voice. You are familiar with me, and familiarity is the stepping stone to trust, which is the very foundation of friendship! We’re practically friends, sire, are we not?” Edmund glanced to the bird, then the floor, then the door, and back. Discomfort began to envelope his entire body. If only there was a way to distract the bird and make a quick escape, to flee to someplace where Sallowpad may never find him. Anything to relieve himself of this bizarre and uncomfortable interaction.   
      After a few moments of silence, however, something new began rising up inside Edmund’s chest. Here he was presented with just about the only person willing to listen to him– _truly_ listen to him– and here he was rejecting this creature’s ear. Perhaps it was a mistake to trust Sallowpad but on the other hand, Edmund suddenly felt compelled to tell him everything. And so he did. He seated himself in the big arm chair by the window and spoke of his journey into Narnia, his history with the White Witch, his siblings and the Battle of Beruna and Aslan and their coronation. Not that any of this was unknown to the bird, or any Narnian for that matter, but Sallowpad did not rush the boy. Rather, he simply sat and listened. Edmund continued to speak of Galma and the epidemic, of his minor injury and major breakthrough. Of his ideas for a spy corporation and the resounding opposition he was met with that morning by the council.   
      Sallowpad flitted his wings and hummed to himself, responding with a comforting, “I see why you would be wary of telling such things to a stranger, but have no fear for I am rather fond of your idea, my liege! Rather fond indeed! So fond, in fact, that I would like to help you with your corporation!”   
      Edmund’s mouth gaped open as he tried to find the right words to say, but all that came was a stammer until finally, he choked out a single word. “How?”   
      “I am a rather intelligent bird, my king, and am very good at spying myself! I am known for keeping a bird’s eye view on everything and everyone! I would be honored, nay ecstatic, to be given permission in helping you get your spy corporation off the ground, even if it is just the two of us, in order to maintain the safety and security of our great Narnia itself!” Sallowpad preached. Though Edmund had only just met him, Sallowpad’s enthusiasm filled him with a renewed hope. It was outrageously refreshing knowing there was at least one being who seemed excited and approving of Edmund’s idea.   
      “You would really do such a thing?” Edmund asked, just to be sure. The raven cawed in confirmation, flapping his wings quickly. “And how do I know you’re not a spy for some other country here to cause trouble?”  
      Sallowpad ruffled his feathers once more, yet again offended by the king’s insinuation. “I am Narnian born and bred, sire! I have Narnian blood coursing through my veins! To betray one’s land is to betray oneself!” he exclaimed. Though portions of Edmund still remained skeptical, he was growing far too tired now to continue questioning the bird. He couldn’t see the time, but knew by the fatigue blanketing his body that it was growing far too late. Detecting his exhaustion, Sallowpad simply nodded and added, “We will talk in the morning, my liege. But now, to bed. After all, a king without sleep loses more than just energy!” he spoke. He flew near, yellow feet clutching at the shoulder of his shirt, and put the boy to bed much like a father would his son, drawing the covers up to his chin and tucking him in tightly. He bid the young king a goodnight before darting out the window and disappearing into the trees.   
      As daybreak fell across the land, Edmund struggled to force his eyes open. His forearm tingled and his head was spinning, all he wanted to do was cocoon in his bed and sleep for the next week. Unfortunately, kings aren’t afforded that luxury and he knew he had no other option but to catapult his body out of bed with all the strength he could muster. Stumbling to his mirror, he rubbed his eyes and cringed at the dark circles and the pallor of his face. He certainly looked concerning. His siblings would worry but there wasn’t much he could do about it. With a heavy sigh, he stripped himself of his pajamas and tossed them into the corner, then filed through his drawers for something fresh to wear for the day. As he did so, however, his ears picked up on a curious noise from behind. He remembered that wild dream he had last night, about the raven on the windowsill, and chuckled to himself softly. His imagination was growing wilder by the second. As he turned to face the source of the sound, however, he was startled to find none other than Sallowpad the raven perched on his windowsill. _So it really wasn’t a dream…_  
      “Good morning, sire!” the raven squawked. Edmund shouted and jumped in surprise, then realized he was nearly naked and scrambled to cover himself.   
      “W-what are you doing here?!” he panicked.   
      “I told you last night that I would return in the morning, my king! Why? Is this a bad time?” the bird inquired, glancing to the boy’s bare body and cocking his head.   
      “N-no…” Edmund stammered, struggling to keep himself covered while dressing himself. “Just…a warning would have been nice, at least.”   
      “My apologies, my liege” Sallowpad replied. “I will remember for next time. So, what is the first order of the day? What shall Edmund’s spy corporation accomplish?”   
      Edmund fumbled over his words as he tried to figure out a proper answer. “Well, I just…nothing. At the moment, at least” he finally said. He didn’t want to disappoint the bird but at the same time, couldn’t bring himself to lie.  
      Sallowpad flapped his wings nervously and cocked his head to the side. “What would you like me to do then, my liege? I can accompany you to your daily duties, and perhaps help you with your work!”   
      “No, no! No!” Edmund abruptly shouted, raising his hands in protest. “N-no, Sallowpad, I don’t think that would be necessary. Not that I wouldn’t appreciate your help, it’s just…we have nobles from the islands coming today. We have to accomodate to them and win their trust and I just…don’t know if they’d take well to a bird of your…kind, so to speak, flying about.” He tried to be as gentle with his wording as possible but he could tell Sallowpad was disappointed regardless. The bird tucked his head inward so that his shoulder blades were level with his face and issued a somber caw. “I promise, we can figure out the spy stuff later. Right now just isn’t a very good time” the king added apologetically.   
      “No apologies necessary, your highness. I understand completely. The duty of a king is to the masses, not to the few” Sallowpad replied, though his tone wasn’t exactly the most convincing. “What shall I do while you are busy then?”   
      Edmund blinked and thought for a moment, unsure of what to tell him. “Um…” he stammered, “You can just…hang out for a bit. Fly around the Paravel Forest or something. Don’t go too far, but, you know…keep some distance.”   
      Here, the raven perked up, extending his neck back out to the average position and flapping his wings lightly. “Yes, your majesty! I will do just so! Assignment is the key to purpose!” he blurted with newfound joy, regardless of how mundane an assignment it was.  
      “Sallowpad, hush!” Edmund begged, raising his hands frantically. But the bird didn’t hear him, and released a loud caw that echoed all the way down the hallway. Moments later, footsteps padded across the marble flooring and a knock vibrated through the door.   
      “Edmund? Are you alright in there?” Susan called from outside. Of all his siblings, Edmund knew that certainly the gentle queen was most likely to panic at what she’d find behind his door.  
      “Sallowpad, quiet!” the king whispered, heart racing out of his chest. He clenched his fists at his sides in panic as the doorknob slowly turned and the door began to creak open. With a gasp, Edmund lunged forward and shoved the bird out the window, whispering a hectic apology as he fanned Sallowpad away. The bird squawked and startled as he flew off in wobbly formation, disappearing behind a tree just as Susan entered the room.   
      “Ed, are you alright in here?” she asked, concerned. Her eyes searched the room for anything amiss, greatly suspicious. Edmund pasted a cheesy grin upon his face, tapping his toe lightly.  
      “Of course! Everything’s perfectly fine, Su! Just getting a little fresh air, is all. Nothing like morning air in Narnia, huh?” he rambled. “Hey! Are you hungry? We’ve gotta be late for breakfast. Come on, we wouldn’t our food to get cold!” he then added, pushing past his sister into the hall. Susan glanced around a moment, confused and concerned, but didn’t ask anything else of it as she chased her brother down to the dining hall.   
      “So, which island are these visitors from again?” Susan asked later that morning as she and her siblings raced to Cair Paravel’s gates. Truthfully, she felt a little embarassed for not remembering. The Seven Isles were so strange and far that she often forgot they were even there, which made her feel like a terrible queen. But then again, she had only been a queen for a few months, it wasn’t as if the whole world expected her to be vastly knowledgeable in such a short span of time. Still, she hated forgetting especially with councilmen from such an island arriving any moment.   
      “I think it’s something like Moldy Nacho?” Edmund furrowed his brows in thought.   
      “Maldonado” Peter corrected. “It’s important we get that right. We wouldn’t want to offend them.” At this, Eilonwy scoffed, drawing attention to herself.  
      “Eilonwy, do you find this funny?” Susan asked. The maiden shook her head.  
      “No, not at all. I just don’t understand why you’d want to forge alliances with Maldonado of all places. Filthy, wretched thieves they are. Nothing but an island of rejects and sinners” she explained.   
      “Eilonwy, you have to remember, your perception of these places are a hundred years old. A lot can change in a century!” Peter replied, but in an informative, openminded sort of tone rather than a smartass one.   
      “Well, if there’s one thing I know it’s that places can change all they want but the people stay the same” the maiden muttered.  
      “Oh, do try to be openminded, Eilonwy!” Lucy then added. Her eyes glimmered with optimism and excitement toward meeting more new people. She was a hypersocial queen if there ever was one.   
      As the Pevensies and their council readied themselves, the gates to Cair Paravel swung open to welcome in their guests. The Maldonadians were unlike anything the Pevensies had ever seen, riding upon horses draped in bright colored clothes and jesting all the way forward. Lucy was instantly mesmerized by their show, watching as men in bell-topped shoes swung torches with expert grace and stood on their hands on the hindquarters of their steeds. Some men even rode side saddle cloaked in velvet draperies with powdered wigs piled high upon their heads and bright makeup caked upon their faces. In the center of it all, however, was a rather contrasting vision, the Lord Lemuel, whose dressings were strict black and face of a ghostly pallor. A strange five pointed hat with pompoms sat upon his head.   
      “Lord Lemuel, it is with great pleasure that my siblings and I welcome you to our country” Peter greeted, bowing as two men helped the lord from his perch.   
      “Charmed, I’m sure” he replied, bowing in return and extending a veiny, bejeweled hand. A most unusual perfume wafted from his thick robes, as if he had gone weeks without bathing and then doused himself in the most bizarre and earthy of fragrances. Susan nearly choked on the power of it, unable to restrain herself from at least lightly coughing into her palm. The man quickly shot her a glare, looked her up and down, and then replied, “It is my sincerest hope that you did not bring back such diseases from that barbaric Galma, your highness. I would hate to see that pretty face rot and spoil so soon.” His comment surely sent shivers down Susan’s spine, leaving the sensation of thick slime enveloping her body. She looked to the sky and prayed that somehow by the luck of Aslan himself she’d be granted time for an afternoon bath.   
      As Peter and his siblings guided the Maldonadians inside, however, Edmund’s attention was abruptly compromised by a cawing in the distance. His back shot ramrod straight as he snuck behind a bush to watch the skies. Far off in the distance but growing ever nearer was a large black bird swooping towards the castle walls. Sallowpad.   
      “Oh, great…” Edmund whispered to himself, slapping his palm to his forehead. The bird swooped down to the gateway, padding his yellow feet on the dirt a few times before he hopped around in search of the just king. “I’m right here” Edmund announced with a groan, revealing himself.   
      “Have the islanders arrived yet? How do they like the castle? Are they kind? Oh, please, do tell!” Sallowpad gushed. Edmund squeezed his eyes shut tight and shook his head.   
      “Sallowpad, this is a terrible time. The Maldonadians only just got here and I’m supposed to be guiding them inside with my family! You can’t be here right now! I thought I told you to fly around the Paravel Forest for the day” Edmund said.   
      “I already did” Sallowpad replied. “It was most exhilarating. A beautiful wood indeed! But now I am finished and am ready for my first real spy mission.”   
      Edmund clenched his fists at his sides and threw his head back to groan. Somehow this bird just wasn’t understanding. Did this really have to be such a battle? The young king sucked in a deep breath, regained his cool, and then replied, “Sallowpad, I really appreciate your enthusiasm here but I’m not ready to give you any missions yet. I have duties that need to be attended to first. I’ll meet with you tonight, after sundown, by my window and then we can play pretend, alright?” It was the phrase _play pretend_ that truly struck a cord in the raven and suddenly that made all the difference. Edmund was never serious. This was all just one big game for him. He was a king, of course he had more important things to attend to. Sallowpad straightened his back and nodded once, sighing an Okay before bidding the king a good day and flying off. As he watched the bird disappear, something inside Edmund began to churn, as if he had just received a terrible omen. Or perhaps it was just the astronomical guilt of letting his new friend down. Either way, he didn’t like the feeling of it one bit. However, there wasn’t much he could do about it right now. As he said, he had royal duties to attend to. Paying one last glance to the skies, he collected himself and then rushed back through Cair Paravel’s great doors to rejoin his family.   
      By the time Edmund caught up with the others, they were already halfway through the main hall and so engrossed in conversation and circusy delight that they had scarcely realized he was gone. Lucy clasped hands with one of the made-up men and twirled with him down the corridor, singing songs together as another drew a lily from his sleeve and tucked it behind her ear. The men in bell-topped shoes cartwheeled toward the staircase which they then climbed on their hands with the greatest of ease.   
      “I have high hopes that during your time here, we can secure some sort of alliance between Maldonado and Narnia” Peter said to the lord, whose face remained stark and expressionless.   
      “It is my hope, as well, your highness. Your country has much to offer us” Lord Lemuel replied. “Very much indeed.” There was something in his tone that sparked Edmund’s curiosity, an almost sly quality underscoring his words. He glanced to Susan looking rather uncomfortable, a polite smile pasted on her lips regardless. Peter and Lucy didn’t seem all too concerned, however, and that gave Edmund reason to believe maybe he had nothing to worry about either. After all, how much trouble could a band of backflipping baboons really cause, anyways?   
      The rest of the afternoon progressed swimmingly as Peter and Lord Lemuel chatted for hours about what Maldonado could offer. Throughout the entire meeting, Peter seemed to show no signs of distrust or suspicion whatsoever, laughing and jesting with the man despite his dry and almost grotesque sense of humor. He wrote it off as just a personality quirk and prayed his discretion was correct.  
      As the sun began to dip into the Great Eastern Ocean, trumpets blared to signify dinner. Peter rose from his seat, offering to escort Lemuel to the feast, but the lord raised a hand and excused himself to the bathroom before he supped. Peter nodded and watched as the lord departed, a flutter of excitement filling his chest. Their hours-long discussion had fed him so much hope, he was certain nothing but good things were to come from their alliance. The positivity did not last long, however, for a sudden, disgusted gasp echoed from down the hall. Peter leapt out to assess the situation, finding a rathr horrified Lord Lemuel staring down Eilonwy.   
      “And who, pray tell, are _you_?” he asked in a rather sour tone. Cocking an eyebrow, he eyed her up and down, scrutinizing her every feature: she was too thin, too pale, her brows were to thick and her hair too unruly, her teeth were crooked and her dress was dirty and torn at the hem. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d say she was a beggar or a gypsy dancing in the street for men’s favors.   
      Lord Lemuel’s blatant judgement ceased to phase Eilonwy, however. Heaven knows she was used to it by now. Straightening her back, she crossed her arms and stared right back at the man with a harsh gaze, opening her mouth to reply but was interrupted before she could make a sound.   
       “This, Lord Lemuel” Peter stepped in suddenly, “Is our dear friend, Eilonwy. She assisted us on our journey to Cair Paravel and fought alongside me in the Battle of Beruna.”   
      “A female soldier, eh?” Lord Lemuel contemplated. “Interesting. Very interesting, indeed. And what a curious name, my dear child. Eilonwy. Like the ancient princess of the time before.” Eilonwy did not under any circumstances like the way her name rolled off of this man’s tongue, as if it was a curse word he found far too much satisfaction in using.   
      “Yes, my lord” Eilonwy replied coolly. “A fair and noble princess she was. I am genuinely honored to share a name with her.”   
      “Hmmm…” Lord Lemuel hummed to himself. “Many a similarity shared, too, I see. Even speaks with the accent of the time before.” It was at this that Eilonwy truly grew uncomfortable. Never had anyone ever pointed out her accent before, the deeper brogue and rounder syllables, a harsh contrast to the soft, proper dialects of the Pevensies.   
      “You must be a rather seasoned historian, my lord” Eilonwy replied, a slight edge finding it’s way into her voice. Lemuel raised his brows, catching onto her defense, but said nothing more in condescending tones. He simply confirmed her statement with delicious passion, patting her on the shoulder, before requesting Peter escort him to dinner. The High King obliged, glancing apologetically to Eilonwy as he guided his guest, wishing he could do far more.   
      Edmund eyed the lord in curious disgust, watching as he stabbed each perfectly sliced piece of meat upon his plate and sensually curled his lips around his fork. There was something understandably disturbing about how calculated he was, so much so that even the most tolerable nobles found at slightly unnerving. The Pevensies did their best to ignore it as best they could, turning their attention to conversation instead.   
      “So, it seems as though you both have found a lot to talk about” Susan spoke, trying her best to not make eye contact with their guest. “I assume you’ve made quite a bit of progress on planning an alliance?”   
      Peter grinned and nodded. “I’d say we have!” he exclaimed, glancing to Lemuel. “We’ve done very valuable work so far. There are still many more kinks to iron out but I feel confident this is the beginning of a long and prosperous alliance.” A disturbing smile spread across Lemuel’s lips at the enthusiasm in Peter’s voice. The thought of it all nearly made Susan and Eilonwy choke on their food.   
      “How wonderful!” Lucy exclaimed in contrast. “I hope we can invite some of your talented gymnasts and jugglers to our festivals!” It was refreshing to see the young queen so fascinated by the Maldonadians and their exquisite culture. Of course, not that anyone really expected any different from someone so filled with wonder and optimism. The High King simply nodded back at her, beaming.   
      As dinner came to a close and the royals retreated to their chambers for the night, Eilonwy sat by her vanity in unease. She couldn’t stop thinking about the strange lord they were hosting in their home, and if anyone else felt the same way. Peter seemed so confident in their alliance, so trusting of him, that she began to question whether her concerns were even valid. Braiding her hair over her shoulder, she glanced to the clock in contemplation before sneaking into the hallway.  
      “Psstt…Susan?” she whispered, knocking on the queen’s door. The gentle creaked the door open and peered through the slit cautiously, glancing around to ensure Eilonwy was alone.   
      “Eilonwy, it’s late. What is it?” she whispered back.   
      “Can I come in a moment? I need to ask you something” Eilonwy replied. Susan hesitated a moment before finally opening the door fully and inviting the maiden inside.   
      “What is it, Eilonwy? Please make it quick, it’s late and Peter has planned for all of us to go riding with Lord Lemuel early in the morning” Susan said. Eilonwy paused, beginning to question the quality of her idea. On the other hand, the undertones of disgust in Susan’s voice convinced her otherwise, as if she was struggling to swallow a nasty pill.   
      “I need to ask you something. Does Lord Lemuel seem…I don’t know, trustworthy to you?” Eilonwy inquired. She clasped her hands in front of her nervously, twiddling her thumbs as she awaited an answer.   
      “Of course! How could you think something so silly?” Susan replied in a not-all-that-convincing tone. She brushed her hair back behind her ears, rearranging the baubles and perfumes on her vanity, before gazing back at Eilonwy and asking “Why? Do you not think he’s trustworthy?”   
      “Oh, I don’t know…” Eilonwy murmured. She skirted around the queen and awkwardly seated herself on the cushioned bench at the foot of her bed. “I just…I don’t know, there’s something about him that’s a little questionable to me. But maybe I’m just overreacting, I don’t know. Peter doesn’t seem concerned and neither do you or Lucy so maybe I’m just overthinking things. You know what? This was a bad idea, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Goodnight, Susan” she rambled. As she approached the door to make her escape, however, a pale hand reached out and grasped her wrist lightly. Eilonwy turned back to find Susan eyeing her with a certain vulnerabilty that caught the huntress off guard.   
      “I sense it, too” Susan whispered back desperately. Eilonwy’s eyes widened slightly, mouth ajar, as she nodded slowly, grateful to have found someone who felt the same way.   
      Down the hall, Edmund paced back and forth as he awaited Sallowpad’s return. It was half past ten, he should’ve arrived by now. Ed couldn’t stop thinking about him, terrified he wouldn’t listen and make a mess of things, effectively blowing their cover and ruining Edmund’s chances of ever earning the council’s trust. After fifteen more minutes had passed with no change, the just resorted to believe that maybe Sallowpad wasn’t coming back. If anything, he’d see the raven in the morning. As he sucked in a breath to blow out his candle, however, the dark silhouette of his new friend swooped into view through the window. Edmund rushed over as the bird perched himself on the back of the just king’s chair, huffing and panting heavily.   
      “Sallowpad, are you alright?” the just king asked. Sallowpad shook his head.  
      “I have grave news, your majesty! Very grave indeed!” the raven gasped. Edmund rose his eyebrows, prompting him to continue. “I know you refused but I disobeyed your orders and snooped around the castle anyways” he confessed.   
      “Sallowpad!” Edmund exclaimed, disappointed, but the bird raised a wing, asking the king to pause, then continued.   
      “I’m afraid to inform you that your guests have not been completely honest about their plans for you and your siblings, your majesty!” he revealed. “I overheard Lord Lemuel speaking with his men in his chambers just an hour ago. Very cruel plans they have indeed! We must alert the High King at once!”   
Edmund’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew from the moment they arrived that there was something strange about these guests of theirs, and now he had reason to believe as such. But reason and evidence were two very different things. “Sallowpad, wait, we can’t tell Peter anything” Edmund protested.   
      “Why ever not?” the raven asked.   
      “Well, because. We don’t have any concrete proof that they’ve said the things you say they have. We don’t have anything physical to hold against them. We can’t do anything without proof. And plus, if Peter finds out you, a perfect stranger to him, have been sneaking around the castle with my knowledge, then we’ll both be toast” the king explained. Sallowpad paused a moment to chew over Edmund’s words, finding his logic hard to counter.   
      “Alright, you’ve made your point, your majesty. So then what do we do?” he asked after a few moments of silence.   
      Edmund sighed and shook his head. “That’s a good question, Sallowpad. I truly wish I knew.”   
      Come morning, Edmund sat silently at the breakfast table and poked at his food in disinterest. Lucy eyed him suspiciously, knowing Edmund wasn’t one to dawdle at mealtimes, and pondered asking him what was wrong. But then she remembered Lord Lemuel and Peter’s desperation to make a good impression and thought better of herself. Family drama was for private affairs, not breakfasts in the presence of guests.   
      Lucy wasn’t the only one suspicious of Edmund’s strange eating habits, however. Peter glanced to Susan in concern, silently asking her what was up with their brother. Susan shrugged minutely as if to reply that she didn’t know, but deep down she wished she did. A part of her wondered whether Edmund shared her opinion of this strange Lord Lemuel but she brushed the thought away as quickly as it had arrived. At least Eilonwy sided with her on the matter. She looked to the huntress from across the table with a reassuring gaze, as if to remind her that she was not alone in her distaste.   
       “Alright, whose up for a little ride through the Paravel Forest?” Peter offered, rising from his seat, even if his offer was really more of a command. He wasn’t being bossy so much as he was asserting dominance, a form of superiority to remind the lord of his title or something petty like that. Neither his siblings nor Eilonwy were very amused by it, truthfully. They all nodded, not that they were given much of a choice, and rose from the table to prepare for their midmorning journey.   
      A rigid tensity filled Eilonwy’s body as she harnessed Everlast for their ride, hyperaware of her surroundings. She vowed to herself that she would stay behind Lemuel at all times to keep a close eye on him, for she didn’t trust him one bit. She couldn’t stop thinking about him: the deep crevices in his face, his thick, low brows and the dark, brooding eyes that poked out from underneath them, his bony fingers and black robes.  
      “Need any assistance?” a droning voice suddenly called from behind, snapping her from her thoughts. Eilonwy turned around to find none other than Lord Lemuel himself standing at the entrance of Everlast’s stall. An unsettling smile spread across his face as he inched nearer.   
      “Um, no thanks, I’m quite capable on my own” Eilonwy shot back, refusing to meet his eyes. As she turned her back to him, however, she could feel his body slither closer and closer until she felt the weak breeze of his stale breath against the back of her neck.   
      “A princess like yourself shouldn’t be subjected to doing such things on her own, though” he hissed. Then he did something Eilonwy hoped and prayed she’d never be subjected to: he planted his hands firmly on her waist and hoisted her up onto Everlast’s back. A jolt of shock ran down Eilonwy’s spine and she wanted to kick and protest at him but found every muscle in her body frozen in shock. As soon as she was close enough, she gripped Everlast’s mane as tight as possible, a shiver rushing through her entire body. Everlast shook her head and brayed, but not because her rider was gripping her too tightly. Rather, the mare could sense Eilonwy’s discomfort and was determined to do everything in her power to protect her.   
      Lord Lemuel cocked his head to the side and gazed up at Eilonwy eerily, the creases at the corners of his mouth deepening. There was something in his gaze that churned Eilonwy’s stomach violently and she was almost certain in that moment that she was about to vomit. However, before any bile could reach her throat, Lord Lemuel’s hand skated down to stroke Everlast’s coat. The mare, disgusted by the strange man’s touch, neighed and stood upon her hindlegs, kicking the air with her front hooves wildly. Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Lord Lemuel fell to the ground with a cry, capturing the attention of the other Pevensies in the nearby stalls.   
      Peter jolted into the scene, hand on his sword hilt and terror in his eyes. “What the hell is going on here?” he commanded.   
      “That–that _beast_ …!” Lemuel shouted, pointing a shaking finger to Everlast. “That monster tried to kill me!”   
      “W-what?!” Eilonwy exclaimed in disbelief. The nerve of this douchebag.   
      “Eilonwy!” Peter scolded sharply. He stared back at his friend with eyes like daggers as he helped Lord Lemuel to his feet. “Control your horse! Or else someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt” he demanded.   
      Eilonwy’s mouth gaped but she found herself unable to speak a word. She was too enveloped in pure shock. How could Peter possibly take this creep’s side over her own? Didn’t he ever stop to think that perhaps Lord Lemuel was the reason Everlast was so spooked in the first place? As Peter walked off with their guest, Eilonwy searched Susan and Edmund’s faces for some kind of validation or support. Instead, she found none and in that instant, she felt utterly betrayed.   
      As they rode through the forest bordering Cair Paravel, a sick taste hovered in Eilonwy’s mouth. She watched Lord Lemuel as he rode alongside Peter and joked with him about all the big plans they were to make together. Seems like Peter’s really got his shit sorted, huh?, she thought to herself mockingly. She looked to Susan and Edmund and scoffed under her breath at them, too. So much for Susan being on her side.   
      Deep down, however, Susan couldn’t stop thinking about what must’ve happened. A part of her was desperate to look back to Eilonwy, to even pull her aside and ask for the truth, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now, anyways. She’d get her answers later, when they could be guaranteed privacy. She hoped to high heaven that none of it was Eilonwy’s fault, despite her mind defaulting to such an assumption.   
      Edmund had trouble quieting his thoughts, as well. All he could think about was what Sallowpad had said the night earlier, and how it all tied into what happened at the stables. _Very cruel plans_ , he thought to himself. A sickening feeling spread through his veins at the vague description. Lord Lemuel may have very cruel plans indeed, but the fact Edmund had no idea what, exactly, those plans were bothered him greatly. He needed to find out as soon as possible, and he knew exactly how to do it.   
      “Sallowpad!” Edmund shouted, swinging the window open. “Sallowpad, where are you?!” By now, Ed didn’t give a fig whether anyone could hear him or not. He needed the raven’s help immediately and was prepared to do anything to capture his attention. After five minutes of shouting and fussing with no progress, however, Edmund sunk red-faced into the nearest chair and fought to catch his breath. A wild fragment of thought told him to blow Susan’s horn but he shook it off as quickly as it came. That would be inappropriate usage, and would cause too much of a scene. No, he’d just have to wait for the bird to show up on his own. In the meantime, Edmund would just lay his head on his desk and perhaps rest his eyes for a few moments, if he could even rest at all.   
      It wasn’t until Edmund heard a loud pecking in front of him that he realized he had fallen asleep, though he had no idea for how long. Blinking awake, he looked up to find Sallowpad staring down at him, hopping from one foot to the other uneasily. The sky was drenched in an inky blackness outside.   
      “Sallowpad, what the hell took you so long?!” Edmund shouted, hopping from his seat. “I was calling for you hours ago!”   
       The raven ducked his head a moment, as if it would save him from getting slammed by the king’s scolding. “I’m very sorry, your majesty! No amount of distance can amplify the calls to an occupied mind. When you all returned from your morning ride, I decided to swoop in and check on the Lod, just a little innocent eavesdropping is all. I was able to heir their entire plan and I’m afraid to inform you, sire, it is not good!’  
      "Well, out with it!” Edmund urged. This was exactly what he had been waiting for, a detailed summary of what he and his siblings were up against. The results were just as terrifying as Edmund had feared.   
      Down the hall, Eilonwy dropped onto her vanity stool, exhausted and overwhelmed. Her skin still tingled uneasily from the way Lord Lemuel grasped her earlier, and inside she was still seething at Peter’s reaction. With a grunt, she swiped her arm across the tabletop, letting whatever trinkets she owned tumble onto the floor. She stared at her reflection for a brief moment, quietly hating herself, before burying her face in her hands with a sigh. Of all the young women anyone could attempt to take advantage of, she couldn’t possibly imagine how she was of appeal. While she wasn’t the praying type, she hoped to Aslan that that was the last she’d ever encounter of Lord Lemuel, at least on a personal basis, though deep down she knew it was all for naught. If Peter’s optimism was any indication, they’d be seeing a lot more of Maldoandians in the coming years.   
      A muffled ruckus down the hall suddenly turned the huntress’s attention away from hating herself, furrowing her brows curiously. Before she could even write it off as something mundane, a calculated knock rang through her chamber door. It was safe to say she didn’t exactly want to speak with anyone at the moment, but she was far too exhausted to refuse. Considering hardly anyone ever knocked on her door anyway, she had a pretty good guess as to who would be on the other side.  
      “Peter, if this is about what happened earlier, I don’t–” she began but was quickly breathless at the sight before her. Lord Lemuel, lanky and tall, stood before her with arms folded in front of his chest.   
      “Good evening, your majesty” he spoke. “I wish to speak with you of some rather curious matters. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything of utmost importance.” Eilonwy couldn’t bring herself to respond with anything but a simple shake of her head. “Good! Good, good, good. Very good indeed” Lemuel then cooed. She caught his eyes shift to behind her, peering around her bedroom, and her entire body instantly broke out into a cold sweat. “What a precious little chamber you have, there. The kings and queens have definitely given you some stellar accomodations. Might I come in a moment?”   
      “Um, well that’s…that’s not really…I just, um…” she stammered but no amount of anxious protest could deter Lemuel as he easily pushed past her and slipped inside. By now, the maiden’s heart was beating out of her chest, then leaping into her throat as a bony hand grasped the doorknob and the door slowly creaked shut.   
      “There. Much better” he hissed satisfactorily. Eilonwy backed up against her bedpost, wrapping her arms around it to steady herself.   
      “Y-you, uh, you said you wanted to speak with me…about something?” she mumbled, her voice almost a whisper.   
       “Yes! Yes, of course!” Lemuel replied, clapping his hands together as he seated himself on the vanity stool. “Now, you seem to be a very curious fixture here in Cair Paravel. You are of no royal blood or status, yet High King Peter seems to think rather highly of you. He speaks of you often in our discussions. I can’t help but wonder, though, how you possibly came to be part of this family?”   
      “I-I’m not part of the family…” Eilonwy muttered. She didn’t dare meet his eyes.   
      “Oh? Is that so? Then what is your significance in this castle?” Lemuel inquired.   
      “I-I’m…” Eilonwy started. She wanted to stand up straight, to lock eyes with him, to tell him of her brave deeds in the Battle of Beruna, her expert royal knowledge and advice, and her dear friendship with the kings and queens. However, her voice fell off and try as she might, she couldn’t make a sound.   
      “You know, your majesty, there’s nothing I hate more than being fed lies and I suspect that is exactly the case here with you and your little friends” Lemuel said. He ran a finger across her vanity, inspecting the dust on his finger, before his eyes darted back to the huntress. “You know what I think is going on here? I think you’re a mystery that I am about to solve, Eilonwy. To think, you come out of nowhere as soon as Narnia’s prophecy is broken, you are welcomed into Cair Paravel as if it was your own. _You are human_.” With each word, Lemuel rose from his seat and inched closer and closer like a wildcat stalking his prey. His eyes burned holes through her skin, through her clothes, raising the hair on her arms and the back of her neck. “There haven’t been any humans in Narnia for a hundred years, and I certainly know you are without a doubt of Narnian blood. I can see it in your face, in your demeanor, can hear it in your voice. I can see a lot of things in you…” By now, Lemuel was so close Eilonwy could smell his stale breath against her skin. He cupped a papery hand to her cheek, ran his fingers down her neck, then in one swift movement, pinned her to the bed with a dagger to her neck.   
      Eilonwy gasped and squirmed but the more she fought back, the harder Lemuel’s grip became. She couldn’t even scream for help.   
      “Don’t try to fight me, Eilonwy, dear” Lemuel growled. “It’ll only worsen this.”   
      “W-what do you want with me?” Eilonwy gasped, barely able to form the words in her mouth.   
      “I know what you’re hiding, witch! I know who you are! All the pieces fit, all the little tidbits of history! You are no mere human, and you are no councilman. You’re a princess! A myth! A filthy little pest with secrets unknown to man!” he roared. “You accursed little monster! But now you are to get what you deserve. Now you are to rot along with the rest of your family, like you deserved to a hundred years ago! That is, unless you can give me what I want.” Lemuel stared at her with insanity in his eyes, his hand shaking with desire. His eyes skated down from her face to her chest, cocking his head to the side. “I see you were not nearly as naturally endowed as your sisters were” he whispered.   
      “H-how do you–?” Eilonwy choked out.   
      “I am nothing if not a historian, my dear child. I know everything there is to know of the kings and queens of old, of your father Lorr and his brave feats. You seem to forget his brother’s descendents are my neighbors, that your family’s rich and catastrophic history are mainstays in education the world over. And that in every account, Princess Eilonwy’s body was never found amongst her family. And yet now, here we are. I’m met with a young lady of the same name and stature as this little lost princess, in a land deprived of human life for a hundred years. It is only natural to wonder and assume!” Lemuel explained. “But now, oh now is when vengeance strikes! Now is when your secret gets out, little one. Tell me, princess, tell me of your immortality! Tell me of your eternal youth! Or it’ll be your head.”   
      Eilonwy could barely breathe, hands shaking at her sides. Her vision was growing spotty and a massive lump prohibited her from swallowing. At this point, she had given up on attempted escape, knowing that one false move would be the end of her. Ironic how her fearlessness of death fled when she was faced with the devil himself.   
      Lemuel gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on his blade. “Tell me!” he shouted, voice maddening, but just as he was about to slice, the door swung open and interrupted their scene.   
      “Get away from her!” Peter commanded, sword drawn.   
      “Or what? The little king will slap my palms?” Lemuel mocked. Susan, Edmund, and Lucy filtered in behind, weapons at the ready.  
      “Lemuel, you don’t want to do this! Just back away from her and let’s talk about this like civilized people” Susan begged.   
      “Who are you to say what I do and do not want? I am about to solve the greatest mystery in Narnian history: the girl who lived forever! I’ll be famous! I’ll be wealthy! And most importantly, I’ll be immortal!” Lemuel raved. Susan looked to her older brother with disdain, and Peter replied with a gaze of hidden fear and concern.   
      “I thought we could trust you, Lord Lemuel!” Lucy shouted, obviously very distraught by the current scene.   
      “Don’t trust so easily, little one! Or you could very well be handing your life to a wolf in sheep’s clothing” Lemuel replied. “Now, you’re all wasting my very precious time! Leave me now or Eilonwy’s head won’t be the only one that rolls” he threatened.   
      Peter sucked in a deep breath, tightening the grip on his sword. Just as he lunged forward with a horrible battle cry, however, the windows swung open and a black mass darted across the room. Lemuel fell backward, screaming in pain as a large raven flapped his wings furiously and began poking the lord’s eyes out. Eilonwy screamed, recoiling to the other side of the bed and gasping for air. Peter’s sword slammed into her bedpost, simply adding to the many notches that were already there.   
      “What on earth?!” Susan shouted, launching an arrow at the bird.   
      “No, stop!” Edmund begged, leaping forward to steady his sister’s bow. “Don’t hurt him!”   
      “Why shouldn’t I?!” she protested.   
      “Susan, he’s a friend!” Lucy exclaimed with a rather inappropriate dash of pride.   
      “Wait, what?” Edmund asked, whipping around to face his baby sister.   
      “He must be a friend! He’s defending us!” Lucy explained. A wave of relief swept over Edmund, the tension releasing in his shoulders.   
      “What did you think she meant?” Susan asked. Edmund shook his head, but knew he could no longer keep the secret anymore.   
      “He’s not just a friend, he’s _my_ friend” Edmund replied. “I’ll explain it all later!”   
      The three of them rushed forward to join Peter in the scuffle, who by now had pulled his sword from the bed post and was aiming at a very distraught and newly blinded Lord Lemuel. The bird cawed and rose from the man’s chest, perching himself on Eilonwy’s vanity as he began wiping his beak clean.   
      “Perhaps now we understand what happens when we attempt to betray Narnia” Peter spoke, tone harsh and confident, his blade’s tip mere centimeters from Lemuel’s chest. The lord pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and wailed pitifully, staining his palms with blood.   
      “You don’t understand! I had every right–!” he shouted.   
      “Well, I have every right to slaughter you this very instant!” Peter fired back. “And unless you and your men leave immediately, I just might.” Just as Peter said this, Lemuel’s henchmen peered through the doorway curiously, the cheesy grins painted on their faces contradicting the frowns of their actual mouths.   
      “We’ll take care of the undesirables” Susan announced, ushering her siblings to follow her as she raced down the hall after them. Edmund and Lucy followed suit.   
      “This is unfair! This is brutality! This is–” Lemuel sobbed and complained, but Peter stopped him mid-sentence.   
      “Justice. This is the consequence for attempting to murder a member of House Pevensie and the Royal Order of the Lion. From this point onward, Lord Lemuel, you and your councilmen are forever unwelcome in Narnia. If my men or myself ever catch you on Narnian land ever again, we will compromise your life” Peter threatened. As he turned around, a handful of guards had entered the room curious as to what all the ruckus was about. “Get him out of my sight” Peter commanded, and the armored men did as they were told, tying Lemuel’s hands behind his back and dragging his limp body out of the room.   
      Digging her nails into her palms, Eilonwy stood with her back pressed into the corner of the room, traumatized. As she tilted her head back, she tried to suck in a deep breath but couldn’t bring herself to do it without gagging uncontrollably. Her face had turned a ghostly shade of white, eyes brimming with tears.   
      “Eilonwy, are you alright?” Peter spoke softly, inching towards her cautiously. She didn’t respond. As he slid his sword back into his sheath, he slowly approached and took her hands in his, guiding her to the bed and sitting her down on the edge. “Eilonwy, listen to me: everything’s alright. He’s not going to hurt you now. He’s gone. You’re okay” he tried to reassure her, but she quickly shook her head and fought to breathe, tears rolling down her cheeks.   
      “N-no….no…he’s still here. He’ll always be here…” she whispered weakly.   
      “Ellie, what are you talking about?” he whispered back, brushing the hair away from her face.   
      “In here!” she shouted, slamming her palm against her forehead. “Always in here!”   
      “Hey, hey, hey, stop that” he scolded gently, taking her hand in his and moving it away from her head. “He doesn’t have to be. He’s gone now, you’re safe. Nothing can harm you anymore. Come here.” And with that, he pulled Eilonwy into his arms and hugged her close, stroking her hair and comforting her like a child who had just awoken from a terrible nightmare. A part of her wanted to break away from him and scream, to yell at him about his bad judgment and force him to apologize for wrongfully blaming her at the stables that morning, but it was late and she was far too tired, physically and emotionally, to argue. It would just have to wait until tomorrow.   
      As the sun sat high overhead, the Pevensies stood side by side on the balcony watching as the Maldonadians’ ship disappeared over the horizon.   
      “It’s such a shame” Lucy mumbled. “I was so hoping we could really be friends with them.”   
      “Anyone who tries to kill one of us is no friend of ours, Lu” Edmund replied. “Besides, we made a much more valuable friend in the process” he then added, turning to look at Sallowpad swooping in from the south.   
      “Good day, your majesties!” he chirped happily. “Lovely day on the Eastern shore. Saying goodbye to our petty little friend? Oh well, just as they say, an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind!” Lucy chuckled at the bird’s pun, already growing rather fond of him.   
      “Ed, by the way, how, exactly, did you two meet?” Susan then asked. Edmund swallowed hard, a part of him embarassed to tell the story, but before he could speak, Sallowpad jumped in and explained the whole ordeal in heroic fashion, making sure to build Edmund up as the most brilliant and scrappy king one could possibly be. His siblings nodded as they listened, very intrigued by the bird’s tale, and by the time he was finished, all three had a very different perspective on some of Edmund’s ideas.   
      “So, Ed” Peter began, a smile spreading across his face, “what do you say we have a go at that spy corporation of yours?” It was an offer the king didn’t dare refuse.


	7. VOL 1, EP 6: Marco Polo

      Cair Paravel was undoubtedly beautiful; it was a statement that was hard to argue with, what with it’s marble floors and winding staircases and intricate stained glass windows. The longer the Pevensies stayed there, however, the more they became aware that, though gorgeous, Cair Paravel was outrageously large. At first, this didn’t seem to be much of a problem. It just meant that there was endless space to explore and endless rooms to discover. It wasn’t until nobles from neighboring lands began visiting more frequently that they realized finding everyone in such a large space proved rather difficult.

      “I think it’s time we established some sort of unifying call” Peter announced in a meeting one morning. “We desperately need some way to find one another, especially when King Lune and his men arrive.” The coming of the Archenland nobles was a topic everyone had grown rather tense about in the coming days. The rustic little country had historically positive ties with Narnia but after what happened with Lord Lemuel and the Maldonadians, any visitors were worthy of suspect and caution.   
      “Is this really that important, though, Peter?” Edmund asked. Apparently he hadn’t really grasped the concept of how massive Cair Paravel really was, or perhaps he was just biased because he had eyes on every room in the castle. Despite early objections, after him and Sallowpad’s success in discovering Lord Lemuel’s devious plans, the just king’s spy corporation took off without a hitch. It’s funny how people are far more accepting of ideas when they discover meaningful uses for them.   
      “Ed, think about it: you remember what happened when Lucy went to Galma. We spent hours searching Cair Paravel for her thinking she was just playing some game of hide and seek” Susan explained. Out of all of her siblings, she was certainly the most enthusiastic about Peter’s plan. She had faith in her brother that he and the councilmen would come up with something brilliant– something that didn’t involve using her horn for the stupidest, most mundane purposes. After all, Father Christmas had said to use it only if you were in danger, and Susan was a woman of lawful pursuits who planned to act strictly by that instruction.   
      “Well what do you suppose we ought to do? And are we all expected to just come running the second someone signals us to? I rather like being able to do my own thing without being beckoned every second for some little royal pow-wow” Eilonwy added flippantly, leaning back in her seat. Peter shot her a grimace, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips.   
      “I expect you to cooperate” he replied. “King Lune’s visit is insanely important and I want to make sure we can find some way to gather ourselves when need be so that he thinks we are a civil and orderly country that knows what we’re doing.” By now it was wildly apparent that this visit was of Peter’s utmost concern, and for good reason. Though they had already made an alliance with Galma and found an enemy in Maldonado, those were with lords and dukes. Now they were entering the big leagues, finally meeting with another king. It was no secret that the Pevensies were young, children even, and deep down, Peter’s biggest fear was that King Lune was not going to take him and his siblings seriously. He was terrified of what the Archenland ruler would think of them.   
      “How are we going to signal each other, though?” Lucy asked. Her mind was already swirling with ideas that she was excited to propose.   
      Over the next few days, as the kingdom prepared for the neighboring nobles, the Pevensies tried every tactic under the sun to locate one another. Flags only worked when they were within each other’s line of vision, especially when outside but only at certain distances. Horns were useful until they weren’t, as Narnian criers were already avid horn users and it quickly became difficult to differentiate the two. Carrying horns around all the time became quite the nuisance, anyhow. Lights had the same issue as flags, only being useful when you could see them. Tensions thickened as the arrival date of the Archenlanders grew nearer and nearer and the young kings and queens were running out of plausible ideas.   
      “Maybe it’d be best if you all just stay together at all times” Eilonwy finally suggested, playing solitaire on the balcony table. Her focus on the cards plus her rather indifferent tone proved that the only reason she offered was in hopes of shutting everyone up. Even though it wasn’t even her problem, the daily test runs were really beginning to wear at her sanity.   
      “Try to sound a little more careless, Ellie” Peter rebuked.  
      “What are you playing, anyways?” Lucy asked, approaching to peer over the huntress’s shoulder.   
      “It’s called solitaire. Do they not have it in your world?” Eilonwy replied, eyes still transfixed on her game. Lucy furrowed her brows.  
      “I think so. It sounds familiar” she replied. “What’s it about? How do you play it?”   
      “It’s all about rearranging cards and running through the deck. Gotta stack cards in descending order and alternating suit until you draw an ace, then you make a pile and start stacking cards in ascending order there. It’s simple, straightforward, and the best part is that it’s to be played _alone_ ” Eilonwy explained. Lucy nodded and stepped back a few paces, searching to her siblings for a valid response but found none in their faces. It wasn’t that Eilonwy meant to be harsh to Lucy specifically, she had just grown rather aggravated and had a hard time restraining it, even from people whom she never intended to direct it towards.   
      Later that night, Lucy sat upon her sister’s bed as they braided each other’s hair before bedtime. “Susan, do you think Narnians have the same games that we do in London?” she asked. She had been thinking a great deal about games ever since she saw Eilonwy playing tat card game, and hoped that perhaps there would be more games her friends here already knew.   
      “I don’t know. Obviously they have hide and seek, and now we know they have solitaire” Susan replied thoughtfully. “Perhaps when things finally settle down, we can ask around?”   
      Lucy nodded. “I sure hope things settle down soon. We’ve been so busy!” Susan immediately agreed. Their coronation was only a few months ago and they had already had so many adventures already. It was strange to think that this was only the beginning. Though they didn’t say it aloud, the two queens universally understood that deep down, they both prayed the rest of their reign wouldn’t be nearly as overwhelming.   
      As the sun stretched across the country, Lucy sat upon the balcony with a deck of cards trying to untangle the complicated game Eilonwy was playing the day before. The huntress had made it seem so simple and yet the valiant queen just couldn’t seem to figure it out. More than anything, she was becoming impatient with the monotomy of repeatedly filtering through the deck with little success. With a huff, she leaned her chin into her palm and stared out upon the Western Woods beside her. It was then that she noticed something in the distance, what looked to be a caravan surrouded by guards upon horses. Lucy may have had trouble grasping the concept of solitaire but this scene was something she understood immediately: the Archenlanders were here.   
      In one swift movement, Lucy leapt from her chair and slid through the large double doors, weaving through aisles of bookshelves and into the hallway. Horns blared from the parapets and yet somehow they didn’t seem as loud as usual, echoing through the halls softly so that one who wasn’t paying attention might mistake them for a simple hum in the air. _I’m sure they’re all already up there waiting for me_ , Lucy thought to herself as she sprinted toward the gates. Much to her surprise, however, the entrance to Cair Paravel was completely barren. Her siblings were nowhere to be found. Panic rose in her throat as she feared the worse: what if these visitors were really unexpected invaders? What if she had just put herself at the forefront of a large and nasty battle? Despite the potential exhilaration of such an idea, she would’ve much rather found her family already gathered and awaiting her.   
      As the caravan grew closer, at least Lucy was assured the group was none other than King Lune and his men. They did not approach maliciously but rather slowly and perhaps in what Lucy might describe as a wobbly fashion. They were carefree and jovial in the way they moved but not in the same obnoxious way the Maldonadians seemed to.   
      The gates swung open and a crier stood guard as he annonced King Lune and his men. A whale of a man stepped out of the caravan followed by a rosy cheeked young woman whose hand he took as she stepped down upon the soft Narnian grass. Lords gripped the reins of impatient horses from behind and it was then that Lucy realized just how awkward all of this was. _Where is everyone?_ , she thought frantically, glancing behind her in hopes that perhaps they were rushing up through the hallway this very second. Instead, emptiness. Lucy’s cheeks burned beet red as she turned back around and flashed a cheesy grin at her guests.   
      “Good day, little one” King Lune greeted, bowing as low as his belly would let him. “Are you here to escort us to the kings and queens?” Lucy shook her head.   
      “Actually, I _am_ the queen” she corrected, and found great satisfaction in the surprise on the king’s face.   
      “I knew these new Narnians were young but I didn’t know they were this young” one of the Lords murmured to another, though he didn’t seem to make much of an effort in keeping his voice down. “Say, child, where are the real kings and queens?” the man then asked, staring Lucy down.   
      The valiant eyed him suspiciously, slightly insulted by his implication that she was not who she said she was. “If you give me just a moment, I’ll get them for you” she replied with a devilish half-smile. Turning her face to the sun, she cupped her hands around her mouth and did the only thing she could think of to get everyone’s attention: she screamed at the top of her lungs. But she didn’t scream just anything. She had been so preoccupied with fun and games the past couple days that she yelled, “Marco!” as loud as her lungs would allow her in hopes that perhaps her siblings would reply back appropriately.   
      “Pete, did you…did you hear that?” Edmund asked from the grand hall. Peter barely raised his eyes from the stack of paperwork before him, replying with a disinterested grunt.   
      “Hear what?” Susan asked, peeking up from her book.   
      “Well…this is going to sound crazy but…but I swear I just heard someone scream ‘Marco’” the just replied.   
      “Marco…?” Peter asked, finally lifting his gaze. Edmund nodded. “Like the name?” Edmund nodded again.   
      “We don’t know any Marco, though…” Susan replied quizzically. She furrowed her brows and tried to decode the message.   
      “Unless…” Edmund stated. The cogs in his brain began to turn until finally, everything clicked. Leaping from his seat, he darted toward the doorway and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Polo! Polo, Polo, Polo!” Peter and Susan met each other’s eyes in serious confusion before silently agreeing they ought to follow him, then rose from their seats and did just so. Edmund led them all the way down the hallway and slid down three flights of stairs before skidding to a halt at the entry gates. It was then that Peter and Susan understood what was going on.   
      “What a delightful entry!” the stout man replied, clapping his hands joyfully.   
      “K-King Lune!” Peter exclaimed, breathless. “On behalf of my siblings and I, we’re terribly sorry for our belated welcome. We ought to have been here the moment you and your men arrived!”   
      Despite Peter’s fears, King Lune just chuckled and patted the boy on the back. “It’s no trouble at all, my boy! No trouble at all! I understand these things happen. Nothing to fret about. You must be High King Peter, right?” Peter nodded, dumbfounded, before remembering he was a king and straightening his back. “Pleasure to meet you, son. And you two must be Queen Susan and King Edmund, correct?”   
      Susan nodded slowly, just as shocked as Peter at how casual their guest was. She bowed her head and curtsied politely, in hopes it would help her save face. Edmund, however, thought this was all great. He had never met a king before but he was happier than ever that the first one he did was so jolly and cavalier.   
      “And this” Peter then spoke, “Is our youngest sister, Queen Lucy the Valiant.” He rested a hand on his baby sister’s shoulder but she simply stood there with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face as if she was hiding some delicious secret.   
      King Lune simply laughed and nodded. “I know: we’ve already met. She was the only punctual one of the four of you!” At this, the rest of the Pevensie’s faces turned bright red, all glancing to Lucy in embarassment. She simply flashed a wide grin at them and then excitedly ushered the Archenlanders inside, enthused about showing them their castle.   
      “Did you even hear the horns sound?” Susan whispered to Peter as they rushed after their sister. The High King shook his head.   
      “I ought to have a talk with the criers when this is all over” Peter whispered back. Susan nodded, then sighed.  
      “Well, it could be worse.”   
      “How so?” Peter inquired.   
      “At least Eilonwy didn’t show up.” Susan’s words stung but deep down, Peter knew there was an ounce of truth in them. If they were to have any real hope of allying with Archenland, they needed to focus first and foremost on their presentation before the king and queen. Eilonwy was not particularly the most sightly when it came to royal affairs, and so despite Peter the boy  wishing she had joined them, Peter the king understood the benefit. He wasn’t sure where the huntress was or what she was doing, but he’d make time to find her later. Now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.   
      As the day progressed, the Pevensies learned more and more about their Archenland neighbors. King Lune was the kindest and most benevolent king they could ever imagine, a fat, happy man who seemed to take quite a liking to these young monarchs. His wife, Queen Aria, was quiet and tender, following her husband around with a soft smile constantly painted upon her face. To Susan, she was everything a queen ought to be and the gentle admired her greatly, aspired to be like her, porcelain faced and soft spoken and sincere. As the boys retreated to the sparring grounds that afternoon, Susan invited Aria to join her and Lucy for tea during which the three queens greatly befriended one another.   
      “Peter, my boy, you have quite the arm there!” Lune remarked, catching his breath as he eyed Rhindon in the young king’s hand. The blade glimmered in the afternoon sun, freshly cleaned.   
      “Thank you, sir. I learned from some of the best” Peter replied, eyeing Oreius nearby as he fought with Edmund on horseback. However, the centaur wasn’t the only one who taught him well. Eilonwy’s absence was beginning to weigh on him– he thought surely he’d find her here of all places, bounding about the lawn with sword drawn in wild abandon. King Lune detected the distraction in Peter’s face, however, chuckling softly to himself before straightening his back and lunging his sword forward. Peter gasped, quickly ducking out of the way before tumbling back against the wall.   
      “Something tells me your teacher influenced more than your swordsmanship, Peter” Lune remarked with a chuckle. The High King blushed, his heart racing in his chest. Lune smiled and sheathed his sword, wrapping an arm around Peter as he approached. “Perhaps we can have a little discussion on the promenade, eh? You can tell me all about it.” All Peter could do was nod blankly and oblige.   
      Nobody knew what Peter and Lune spoke of that quiet afternoon, but come dinnertime it was obvious that whatever was said had greatly affected the young king. Eilonwy rushed down the corridor as everyone was filing into the dining room, hair tangled and face dewy with sweat. “I hope I haven’t missed anything important” she murmured, eyeing the Archenlanders from the doorway. Peter simply shook his head, his hand hovering over the small of her back, staring at her with a dreamy gaze. She recoiled, unsure how to handle Peter in such a matter, before she shuffled forward and took her seat.  
      “This must be the Lady Eilonwy” King Lune greeted, a Cheshire grin spreading across his lips. His wife smiled softly, her hands intertwined with that of her husband’s. Eilonwy simply nodded, slowly sinking into her seat. The man looked upon her as if she was a great constellation in the sky based on fabulous tales of a dashing young hero, the kind a mother tells her child at bedtime. “It is an honor and privilege to finally meet you. High King Peter has told us of your great friendship and daring feats at Beruna” he added. Eilonwy shot Peter a quick glare from across the table, somehow slightly offended by his secret compliments, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Probably because he was being two-faced, blaming her for things that weren’t her fault one week and praising her the next. Yeah, that sounded plausible enough.   
      “It’s nothing, really. Just a wayward kid who got swept up in all of this prophecy shit” she replied flippantly. “Nothing to brag about. The Pevensies are the real heroes here.” And they were. She had done nothing special, she simply fought for her country like every other soldier in the fray that day. She didn’t want nor deserve any more recognition than they did. Plus, she was willing to do anything to remove the attention from herself.   
      Eilonwy’s diversions seemed to work as King Lune raised a glass and cheered for the Pevensies. “And what fine heroes they are! You should be very proud of yourselves, your majesties. You have done incredible things and saved your country in the process! And at such young ages, too!”   
      “Well, we tried our best” Edmund remarked humbly.   
      King Lune and grinned and nodded, turning to his wife to mutter something about these kids having their heads on straight. “You know, in Archenland it’s impossible to take the throne so young. We have had laws set in place for centuries dictating a legal minimum age one must reach before they can assume their place as king. Nice to see that those laws aren’t always warranted, though!”   
      Susan wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or insulted by King Lune’s words. As if their age had anything to do with their ability. After all, they were young, not stupid. She wasn’t fond of the insinuation.   
      “What about queens?” Lucy asked.   
      “What about them, dear child?” Queen Aria replied, voice soft and velvet smooth.   
      “Well, you said there’s a minimum age requirement for a boy to reach before being crowned king. What if there was a girl instead? Does the same go for her, too?” the valiant elaborated.   
Queen Aria folded her hands in front of her. “Yes, and no, my little bird. A princess must wait until her eighteenth birthday much like a prince would to take the throne, that much is true. The difference lies in the way in which each rules.”   
      “What differences are those?” Susan asked.   
      “Well” Aria began, “in order to be considered a legitimate ruler of Archenland, a king must marry before his coronation for a king cannot rule without a queen. However, should a daughter take to the throne, she may rule as she pleases, husband or no husband.”   
      “I like the way Archenland thinks” Eilonwy chimed in. _Too bad Narnia didn’t have that rule back when I was princess_ , she thought to herself. She was glad to see that change with the reign of the Pevensies, completely eradicating that law with their sibling tetrarchy. Not that there was any pressure for her to marry anymore. As far as she was concerned, she was no longer a princess. She no longer had any royal obligations to wed, which she was more than comfortable with.   
      “However” Lune added, “Just because a queen doesn’t have to doesn’t mean she shouldn’t.” The huntress cocked a brow. _What are you getting at here, old man?_ she thought to herself, straightening her back in mild interest. “I’m sure it won’t be long until you four tie the knot!” he bellowed, glancing at Peter for a split second. Eilonwy followed the Archenlander’s eyes to the magnificent’s and her heart nearly jumped straight out of her mouth.   
      “Let’s not be too hasty. We are still just kids” Edmund replied, a man of reason. The huntress was instantly relieved by his words, praying that this would be the end of it. She opened her mouth to make a remark, divert the conversation elsewhere, but Lune spoke before she could make a sound.   
      “I never said tonight!” he laughed. “Eventually, though, it would be smart! After all, who is to carry on the monarchy once you’re all gone? You can’t continue a ruling streak without any heirs.”   
      _Heirs. Fuck_ , Eilonwy thought to herself, sinking back into her seat. She forgot about that tiny little fact. Unlike herself, the Pevensies weren’t going to live forever. Sooner or later, they’d have to find spouses and start popping out kids. The moment the h-word rolled off Lune’s tongue, Peter’s face burned bright red as he toyed with his fork between his fingers. It was obvious he wanted to look at Eilonwy but he restrained himself out of embarassment. The huntress, contrastingly, didn’t like the direction this topic was taking. At present, it had reached a fork in the road and she wasn’t sure which option available to her was worse. She decided to do her best not to think about it. After all, Lune said it himself: no hasty decisions need to made tonight. She had all the time in the world to put off adult responsibilities. Until Peter risks getting his neck snapped by kneeling in front of her with a ring, marriage and children were the least of her worries.   
      Try as she might, however, marriage and children were all Eilonwy could think about as she struggled to fall asleep. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was the white lace of weddings, a sea of flowers, the feel of hands groping her body and the eventual cramp of hard labor. The visions were so intense that by midnight, she was hyperventilating in a cold sweat. Kicking her sheets off, she vaulted herself out of bed and slammed the windows open for fresh air. Unfortunately, the trouble with Narnian summers was that there was no fresh air. Instead, the entire country was drenched in a thick, humid fog that reduced everyone to gelatin. With a sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and sunk into her vanity stool, defeated by the prospect of finally growing up.   
      Meanwhile, two slippered feet cautiously pattered down the hall. Apparently Eilonwy was not the only one having trouble sleeping. A quiet knock and Susan opened the door to find her baby sister looking rather distraught. “Lucy, what’s the matter? You should be in bed by now” she whispered, ushering the valiant inside.   
      “I know!” she whined, “but I can’t sleep. I’m too troubled.”   
      “By what?” Susan asked, watching as Lucy fell backward onto her bed.   
      “It’s my cordial” she replied. “It’s getting too low and I can’t stop thinking about it. What if I run out and I can’t heal people anymore? What am I supposed to do then?”   
      “Lucy” Susan sighed, taking a seat beside her sister. She brushed the hair away from her face only to reveal an expression of genuine fear. “Where is all of this coming from?”   
      “I was getting ready for bed when I noticed the cordial on my bedside table. We’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had a good chance to really look at it. I never realized how much Galma had drained it” she explained. “But what if there’s no way to refill it? What if this it? That the moment the last drop falls, it’s empty forever and I lose that privilege?”   
      Susan pursed her lips in thought. How was she supposed to comfort the valiant if she herself didn’t have any real answers? She knew nothing of this fireflower except for what Father Christmas had told them and pieces of legend she barely remembered. She furrowed her brows in thought a moment before finally calculating a solution. “I don’t know how to fix your cordial, but I sure as hell can try to figure it out. Starting tomorrow, whenever I can find the free time, I’ll look through the library and see if I can find any books on the flower and what we might do. Does that sound alright?” she answered. Lucy nodded vigorously, jolting upright to wrap her arms tightly around her sister.  
      “That would be perfect! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Susan!” she gushed. “And I’ll help, too! Promise!”   
      “Alright. But we can’t get any work done if we’re sleeping all day. Go off to bed, get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning” Susan replied, helping her sister down from the tall mattress and guiding her to the door. “Sweet dreams, Lu.”  
      “Sweet dreams, Su!” she called behind her. As she climbed back into bed, her cordial on the nightstand, she knew she’d never be completely relieved until she found a way to refill it but until then, at least Susan’s offer was a step in the right direction. Just knowing she was doing something proactive was enough to relieve her, at least for tonight.   
      As breakfast came to a close, Peter and Lune sauntered off down to the sparring grounds for another day of male bonding. There was something about Lune that was just wildly comforting to him. Perhaps it was that the man was older and more experienced than he, that Peter no longer had to feel so much pressure to be the ultimate voice of reason, the head of the house. There was something else about Lune, however, a distinct quality that just really soothed his active nerves. Lune had a very paternal way about him; he was the kind of person Peter felt he could confide in both professionally and personally. He was, however, nothing like his own father which was perhaps what perplexed Peter the most about their budding friendship. Lune was wide-eyed and merry with a pep in his step and a laugh for the ages. He was, in many ways, like Father Christmas, or at least a caricature of him. Peter truly cherished this man’s company and hoped that this was the beginning of a timeless alliance between their two kingdoms.   
      Strapping her bracer to her forearm, Eilonwy approached the sparring grounds in hopes that she’d perhaps find some refuge in a bit of archery. However, the moment she spied Peter and Lune out on the field, she cursed under her breath and nearly walked right back up the staircase. She would have done just that, too, if she was not interrupted by a quiet voice from behind.   
      “Aren’t you going to join them?” she asked. Whipping around, Eilonwy found none other than Queen Aria standing upon the veranda overlooking the field. In the sunlight, she was absolutely radiant, like an oil painting come to life with delicate, pinched features and her bosom nearly spilling over her bejeweled corset.   
      The huntress stammered a moment, unsure of how to even speak in front of such a woman, before finally crafting together a semi-comprehensible sentence. “I, uh…I mean, I was, but I’m not…anymore.”   
      “Whyever not?” she asked, cocking her head slightly to the side. A pale hand absently stroked at her summer shawl.   
      “I just…don’t want to anymore?” Eilonwy replied. “It’s nothing, really. I can just come back later. I don’t want to get in the way or anything.”   
      Aria shook her head. “I assure you, you wouldn’t be in the way at all! I’d actually rather like to see your work. Peter has said nothing but kind things about you” she said. There was something about the way that last sentence rolled off her tongue that sent shivers down Eilonwy’s spine. She didn’t want Peter saying nice things about her. She didn’t want Peter saying anything about her. The day he stops complimenting her behind her back would be the day she dies happy.   
      “Well, my sincerest apologies, your highness, but that’s an event for another time” Eilonwy said, saluting the queen as she turned on her heels to go.   
      “Oh, wait! Please!” Aria called after her, extending a hand as if she intended to grab the girl by the wrist. Eilonwy paused and turned back around, raising her eyebrows to prompt the queen to speak. “While you’re here, I might as well ask, have you seen Queen Susan? I was so hoping to perhaps play a game of croquet with her but I haven’t been able to find her all morning.”   
      Relief swept over Eilonwy’s face, having feared the worst, as she shrugged and replied, “I haven’t, but I’ll let her know if I do.” And with that, she nodded toward the woman and rushed off down the hallway, away from confrontation, from pressure, from fear.   
      “Have you found anything yet, Lu?” Susan called from across the library. Stacks upon stacks of unshelved books surrounded the two queens, desperate for answers.  
      “Not really. Have you?” the valiant called back. Susan shook her head.  
      “This is pointless” she muttered under her breath. Hours had passed with no success, as if this fireflower was some intangible myth. With every minute of unfound explanation, another sliver of Susan’s hope faded away.   
      “Whoa, looks like someone’s been doing some heavy reading” Eilonwy remarked as she weaved her way through the wreckage. “What’s all this about?” Susan sighed and explained Lucy’s dilemma, which piqued the huntress’s interest a little more than expected. A sly grin spread across her lips, cocking a brow, as she listened intently, arms crossed at her chest.   
      “I think I may be able to help” she then replied once Susan was finished. Whipping around, she tugged a massive atlas from the shelf, flipped it open, and blew the dust from it’s pages to reveal a heavily detailed map of the entire world. “This is where you need to go” she said, pointing to a collection of islands to the east.   
      “That’s the Seven Isles, isn’t it?” Lucy asked, peering over a stack of encyclopedias nearly as tall as herself. Eilonwy nodded.   
      “Yep. One of them is a place called Kronne, some god-awful steamy place completely void of intelligent life. Legend has it that’s where the fireflowers grow– fields upon fields of them. Only issue is that every man whose ever sailed the Great Eastern Sea to find them has never made it back alive, so nobody knows for sure whether they’re really there or not” she explained.   
      “Then how do you expect us to travel all the way there if you’re not really sure this is where they are in the first place?” Susan inquired. It was a question worthy of asking, after all. The moment the words passed the gentle’s lips, whatever hope had swelled inside Lucy began to subside again.   
     “Well, that’s all part of the adventure, isn’t it?” Eilonwy remarked, slamming the atlas shut. “Listen, you needed my help so I gave it. Take it or leave it, but if you ever want to refill that cordial, this is the only way to do it.”   
      “We never said we needed your help” Susan remarked, but was quickly met with a glare from her sister.   
      “Susan, you heard her. It’s the only thing we can do, and I need that cordial refilled!” Lucy countered. “How do we get there?” she then asked, turning to the huntress.  
      “Just like you’d travel to any other island: by boat” Eilonwy replied. “But we’ll need extra reinforcements for this trip.” Turning back to the bookshelf, the huntress pulled yet another large tome, flipping it open a page depicting an enflamed woman with glowing white eyes and crimson hair. “Many a myth has said that the island is guarded by this fire spirit, Iraflora, whose responsible for the deaths of every other man whose tried to take these flowers. She’s like their guardian or some shit like that. So we’ll need to make sure we appeal to her, or else Narnia will be reduced to anarchy.”   
      Eilonwy spoke so coolly of such serious topics that Susan found it hard to believe the huntress could possibly be serious. “Wait, we never said we were going! We never said we were going!” she pleaded, the last sentence flung in Lucy’s direction.   
      “But Susan, we have to!” the valiant begged. “It’s the only way. If you don’t come with us, we’ll just leave without you.”   
      The desperation in Lucy’s eyes was undeniable: she was determined. And the last thing Susan needed was another Galma incident. But they had been so busy already, entertaining guests and travelling to far off places. She just wanted a break, a few moments to herself to soak in her tub with rose petals and candles and just relax to the sounds of the ocean lapping against the shore. The more she looked upon her baby sister’s face, however, the harder it became to deny her. Lucy had a very persuasive way about her, able to twist anyone to cater to her desires. It was a rather valuable trait to have, even if it was a pesky nuisance to her siblings. “Fine” she eventually sighed, “Let me speak with Peter and Edmund first, though.” The response was good enough for Lucy, cheering happily at her sister’s approval.   
      “Oh, by the way” Eilonwy added as she exited the library, “Queen Aria was looking for you. Said she was hoping to play some game of croquet or something.” Susan’s eyes widened, gazing to Lucy apologetically as she silently asked permission to depart. Lucy nodded, grinning from ear to ear, and watched as her sister ran off.   
      “Eilonwy?” she called the moment the gentle was out of sight. The huntress turned around to face the young queen, cocking her head to the side in inquiry. “Do you think you could help me put these books away?” Though Eilonwy knew she had a million other more fun things she could be doing, she didn’t dare refuse the valiant queen. With a sigh, she nodded and joined her among the mess.   
      The next morning, Lucy sat impatiently through the daily meeting, over-enthused to propose her idea. She was nearly shaking the entire table, which earned her some suspicious stares from one such Lord Bar of Archenland. As soon as their guests departed, Lucy’s arm shot up into the air like she was back in school all over again.   
      “Yes, Lucy?” Peter acknowledged.   
      “I have something to say!” she exclaimed. Her eldest brother raised his brows in intrigue, motioning for her to continue. Feeling as if she needed to make a spectacle of herself, she stood upon her chair above the rest of the council and began her speech. “As many of you know, not long ago we visited Galma, an island very much in need of our help. I spent a few weeks there helping Aesop the medicine man and his daughter Nefyn treat and heal everyone who came down with the sickness. My cordial, the one that Father Christmas gave me, was of great use to me during those couple weeks but because of my constant use, the fireflower juice inside of it has grown dangerously low. Thanks to our dear friend, Eilonwy, however, I know a way to fix this, and so I propose a trip to the island of Kronne where the fireflowers are said to grow so we can refill my cordial and I can help heal people again!”   
      The valiant was met with a moment of silence as the council comprehended the little queen’s spiel. Finally, Peter spoke. “How far is this island?” he asked, looking to Lucy and then Eilonwy. He figured the huntress would have a better understanding of the geographical aspects than Lucy would, considering she seemed to know Narnia and the surrounding lands like the back of her hand.   
      “It’s one of the Seven Isles, so I’d say roughly 75 miles northeast?” she replied casually. “Shouldn’t be too far a trip, if that’s your concern.”   
      Peter shook his head. “I’m sure the Splendor Hyaline could handle it, so long as we ensure that Narnia is left in good hands while we’re gone. Also, Ellie, can you please get your feet off the table?” Eilonwy rolled her eyes and obliged.   
      “Does that mean we can go?!” Lucy exclaimed excitedly.   
“I don’t see why not. It’s not as if we’re ignoring our royal duties by going, anyways. It’s a priority trip for Queen Lucy the Valiant, and therefore it is a royal duty in and of itself” Peter replied. The littlest Pevensie shrieked with delight as she bounded across the table to hug her big brother, much to many of the councilmens’ dismay. Lucy didn’t care. She was far too excited to give a fig about what those stuffy old advisors had to say.   
      “So I guess we’re going to Kronne then” Susan replied, tone partially exhausted.   
      “I thought you wanted to make Lucy happy, didn’t you?” Eilonwy whispered across the table.   
      “I do, but I just…” she began, then realized it wasn’t worth the fight. “Nevermind.”   
      As Peter stood over his desk that afternoon studying maps and helping Captain Guildmore chart their voyage, a light knock at the door caught the High King’s attention. Excusing himself from the scene, he turned to find King Lune standing in the doorway, hands on his hips and a proud smile across his face. “Everything alright, sir?” Peter asked as he approached. He felt a little ridiculous with his sleeves rolled up and his hair unkempt but King Lune didn’t seem to mind.   
      “Oh yes, yes, no trouble at all, my boy" he replied. “It seems like you have your hands rather full here so my men and I will depart in the morning.”   
      “You’re leaving so soon?” Peter said, a little more surprised than he intended to sound. “I mean…it feels like you’ve just gotten here, I wouldn’t want you to feel as if you have to leave so suddenly. We can postpone the trip until you’re ready to return home if that’s what you–”   
      “It’s no trouble at all, Peter. Honest” King Lune reassured, patting the young king’s shoulder. “You seem to manage perfectly fine on your own, you don’t need our supervision if that’s your concern.” Though Peter had never made mention of it to the king, deep down he was so grateful to have an adult in reach. He supposed that was one of the perks of many years of experience, however: a deep sense of perception for the unspoken. “However” he added, “Should you ever need anything whatsoever, my castle is always open to you and your siblings, and any other family that may come along the way!”   
      Peter’s face burned bright red at the insinuation. “I don’t think we’ll be expanding our family any time soon” he remarked nervously.   
      King Lune cocked a brow, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “Something tells me it will be sooner than you think, my boy.”  
      Peter furrowed his brows in confusion before shaking his head. “I’m not so sure about that, but thank you anyways.”   
      The Archenland king nodded, his smile growing ever wider, as he patted Peter on the shoulder and added, “Don’t lose that firecracker of a girl of yours. Women like that only come along once in a century.” It was then that Peter fully understood what Lune was hinting at, and his face burned even brighter.   
      “But she’s…she’s not _really_ my girl” he stammered. He had no idea where in the castle Eilonwy was but he was suddenly terrified that she might be nearby, or at least close enough to hear the conversation. The last thing he wanted was a slap in the arm for being a sappy romantic.   
      “I see the way you look at her, Peter. It’s no hard task to figure out you love the girl” Lune stated. “And if you love her, then by all means she’s yours! Make your future with her, boy! Life is short and love is so rare.”   
      The more Lune spoke, the more seeds of wonder he planted in Peter’s brain. Visions popped up like daisies throughout his brain, scenes of golden rings and flower-laden aisles and sweet little babies and a good friend ruling at his side. “Do you think so?”   
      “I know so” Lune reassured. “She’ll make a fine queen of Narnia someday, just as you make a fine High King. Don’t doubt yourself, my boy. You’re doing a phenomenal job so far.”   
      A heartfelt smile spread across Peter’s face as he whispered back a soft “Thank you, sir” in an effort to not break down in tears. He didn’t want to come off as weak or overemotional but he had been so hard on himself those past few months that hearing such reaffirming words from a king like Lune truly touched him. Perhaps he wasn’t doing such a terrible job after all.   
      As the sun rose over the Narnian shores, Peter rushed down to the castle’s gates to bid the Archenlanders a fine farewell. King Lune patted the boy on the shoulder before he left, a silent reassurance that he was where he was supposed to be, before boarding the caravan alongside his wife. As the High King watched them depart, he thought of all that Lune had said to him over the course of his visit, of his reassurances and encouragement to build a future with Eilonwy. He glanced over his shoulder to the huntress as she stood in the doorway waving goodbye, tangled hair braided down her back and grass stains on her hem, and couldn’t help but think that if he was meant for a future, he was certain he was meant to spend it with her.   
      Lucy leapt up and down waving both hands until the Archenlanders were out of sight, when she rushed through the castle gates in strong enthusiasm to embark on their journey. Susan and Edmund followed suit, speaking of their hopes and concerns for the trip, until Peter was the only one left behind. Once he turned around, he caught Eilonwy turning to leave and, in an act of sudden desperation, reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. She stared back at him like a deer caught by a hunter, eyes wide with shock and vague concern.   
      “Eilonwy, I need to ask you something” Peter finally said after a few moments of awkward silence. She rose her brows, prompting him to continue, but deep down was terrified of the question that would ensue. Peter licked his lips, glancing to the ground as if he was struggling to speak, before finally asking, “Are you coming to Kronne with us?”   
      Relief washed over her as she sighed and nodded. “Yes, I was planning to. After all, you buffoons don’t seem to know much about Narnian lore. It’s my job to educate you about what you’re all getting yourselves into.” And with that, she pulled her braid over her shoulder and turned off to enter Cair Paravel.   
      Peter watched her depart a moment before the weight of her words finally sunk in. “Wait, what do you mean 'what we’re getting ourselves into’? What are we getting ourselves into?” he called after her but she simply smirked at him over her shoulder and turned the corner without a decent reply. “Eilonwy, wait! What are we getting ourselves into?!” he begged, chasing her down the hallway. He was beginning to fear that perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.


	8. VOL 1, EP. 7: The Voyage for the Fireflower

      Heavy clouds hung low in the red skies overhead as Captain Guildmore’s crew loaded the luggage aboard the Splendor Hyaline. Peter chewed his bottom lip as he watched from the courtyard, turning Eilonwy’s words over and over in his mind. _It’s my job to educate you about what you’re all getting yourselves into._ She never did give him a proper answer. 

     Lucy was absolutely incapable of sitting still. She clutched her cordial to her chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, desperate to board the ship. Susan cocked a brow, watching with tired eyes, and sighed in defeat. “Lucy, calm down. Please. If you’re going to get this worked up, maybe we should just call this whole thing off” she said, tone desperate but laced with a tinge of hope. How she wished they could call the whole thing off. She glanced back toward Cair Paravel longingly, wringing her hands in the folds of her sheer overskirt. A warm bath and candlelit night alone called to her.   
      “No! We can’t call of the trip!” Lucy shot a glare to the gentle.   
      “Lucy’s right, Su” Peter added. “We’ve already made the plans. It’s too late to turn back now.” Despite his words, Susan could tell that he, too, appeared tired and distraught.   
      “Besides, this is important to Lucy and therefore it’s important to all of us” Edmund replied, stepping forward. Lucy beamed, whipping around to face him as he smiled down upon her. So far, he seemed like the only one genuinely enthusiastic about this trip. For everyone else, it was just another chore they were obligated to fulfill.   
      “Peter, when do you think the ship will be ready?” Lucy then asked, turning to her other brother. She was brimming with anticipation. The High King glanced to the Splendor Hyaline, then back at his sister, biting his lower lip.   
      “I’ll go check” he replied. Sucking in a deep breath, he jogged down the dock toward the gangplank where Eilonwy joined the ship’s crew as they prepared for departure. “Hey” he muttered as he snuck up beside her. Taken aback by the sudden company, the huntress gasped and swung a punch, just missing as Peter ducked beneath her blow. “Whoa, take it easy! It’s just me!”   
      “Sorry” Eilonwy replied, though he couldn’t tell if she really meant it. “Peter, I’m very busy so whatever’s the matter, can we please make it quick?”   
      “I was just wondering how much longer it’ll be” he replied. When she shot him a glare, he quickly added, “For Lucy! She’s getting pretty anxious.” The moment he mentioned the valiant, Eilonwy’s expression softened.   
      “Shouldn’t be too much longer now. We’re just getting the last of the luggage aboard. You know, you lot have a horrible habit of overpacking” she said, rolling her eyes as she hoisted another trunk aboard.   
      “You know, I’m starting to really worry about her” Peter said, almost as if he hadn’t even heard the huntress. He glanced at Lucy over his shoulder, still standing there uneasily as if she was required to keep moving or else the world might collapse. “I know this is important to her but she’s not handling any of this well and I don’t want this to become a problem.”   
      “It won’t be if you don’t treat it like one” Eilonwy replied, a tinge of harshness embedded in her tone. Peter cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, as if her words were a puzzle that he was trying to comprehend.   
      He paused a moment before huffing and speaking again. “Eilonwy, you don’t understand. I’ve never seen Lucy like this. It scares me. I’m honestly not even sure any of this is a great idea anymore. At least not if this is how she reacts.”   
      “Peter” Eilonwy sighed, loading another trunk aboard. “This is a good idea because this is what Lucy’s needs to do. Regardless of how she’s reacting, you have no choice. You have to go. Lucy has to go. She’s bringing all of this onto herself, and rightly so. If I was in her position, I’d be the same way.”  
      By now, the High King was pacing back and forth with a very constipated expression. “I would’ve at least thought she would have calmed down by now. It’s the day of the trip. She shouldn’t be panicking anymore– she has nothing left to wait for!”   
      It quickly became clear to Eilonwy that her friend was not in the most attentive mood this morning. Rubbing her eyes, she leaned against the last couple of trunks and remarked. “Peter, you’re a terrible listener when you’re worked up. Did you even hear a word I just said?”   
      “I just don’t understand why she’s getting so worked up!” he fumed.   
      “Hmph. In one ear and out the other” Eilonwy scoffed. Not that she was entirely surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time he jumped to conclusions and attempted hasty decisions about things he didn’t quite understand. As she stood there listening to him ramble on and on about his misconceptions, she began to wonder what it would take to really capture his attention and bring him back to center. After a few more moments, she finally straighened her back, pinned her arms to her side, and announced out of nowhere, “Peter, I had an affair with a sea serpent and am now carrying his tentacled child.”   
      Just as she had hoped, the High King paused midsentence, face flushed and eyes wide. “Wait, what did you just say? Y-you’re what…?!” he panicked. A sly smirk graced Eilonwy’s lips as she folded her arms and revelled in her success.   
      “There we go. Now he’s back” she said proudly.   
      “Ellie, that’s not funny!” he protested, whacking her lightly on the forearm. “We have a real problem on our hands here and you don’t seem to care very much.”   
      “Oh, and my unborn serpent child isn’t a problem?” she asked with a chuckle. The High King remained unamused. “Listen, I know you’re nervous, Peter, but you’re not listening to me. Not that you ever do.”   
      “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back.  
      “Oh, nothing. Like you said, we have a real problem on our hands here” Eilonwy replied flippantly. “I know you’re worried about Lucy but I’m trying to tell you that this is only natural. Just don’t worry so much and she’ll be fine. The anxiety will subside on it’s own, probably once we get to Kronne and get all of this cordial business sorted once and for all.”   
      Peter sighed, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t possibly think of a better plan of action. Lucy was going to react however she reacted and he had no control over that. He just had to roll with the punches and respond as best as he could. After so many months of kingship, he felt he was getting rather good at that sort of thing anyways.   
      “Now, if you’d excuse me, Peter, I’ve got some work to do so if you’d kindly…you know” she then said, motioning for him to return to his siblings. Peter nodded a moment, trying his best to feel a little more at ease about the circumstance, but as he wandered back to his family, a thought snagged him backward.   
      “Ellie, wait! Wait a second!” he called, diving toward the gangplank. “What did you mean about my not listening to you, anyways? I listen to you.”   
      Eilonwy simply waved off his question as she dragged a rather hefty trunk onto the deck. Despite her rejections, however, Peter was not about to settle on a cliffhanger. She had been acting petty for weeks and he wanted to get to the bottom of it, and soon. Without a second thought, he swung around to the other side of the trunk, helping her to push it aboard. “Come on, Ellie, answer me for Christ’s sake!”   
      “You really don’t like being ignored, do you?” Eilonwy asked bitterly.   
      “Please just tell me what you’re talking about!” he pleaded.   
      “And give up watching you beg? I don’t think so” she chuckled defiantly. The magnificent narrowed his eyes. He already had enough to worry about, he didn’t need to weave through Eilonwy’s pesky emotional labyrinth, too.   
      “Come on!”   
      “Fine. You really want answers? Then I’ll give them to you” she muttered, tugging the trunk the last few inches up the gangplank. The sudden acceleration caught Peter by surprise, sending him reeling a few steps backward. Eilonwy smirked, leaning over the railing of the ship’s deck as she looked down upon him. “I have two words for you, Peter Pevensie: Lord Lemuel.”   
      Peter paused a moment, trying to figure out what she meant. “You mean what happened in your room? But I saved you!”   
      “I’m not talking about that incident, Peter. I’m talking about the one you blamed me for” she replied, now refusing to so much as look at him.   
      He cocked his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Ellie, what do you mean? That was the only incident!”   
      “No, Peter. It wasn’t. Now go run along with your siblings, I have work to do and this conversation is starting to really sap my energy” she replied, waving him off. At first, Peter was slightly offended but he knew there was no breaking her. Eilonwy was tough; it took time and patience to get to her core, even for Peter who he felt she trusted more than anyone. Or at least he hoped. And while he was hoping for things, he also hoped that whatever she was mad at him for wasn’t enough to deter her from thinking highly of him, of caring about him, of perhaps even loving him. He doubted she felt that serious toward him but still, he feared the worst regardless. He had no idea what he’d do if he discovered he was at fault for Eilonwy no longer harboring affections for him. But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to focus on such negativity. Peter could only handle one dilemma at a time and right now, Lucy was his top priority. He could iron out Eilonwy’s troubles later. She certainly seemed to have no issue putting things off, anyways. If she could wait, then Peter could wait.   
      By noon, the Splendor Hyaline was fully supplied and departing on it’s much anticipated journey. Lucy rushed ahead, cordial in hand, nearly stumbling over her own two feet. She was already standing beside the captain when the rest of the Pevensies boarded, her free hand on the ship’s wheel as if she planned to pilot the vessel herself. Excitement brimmed from her eyes and flowed through her veins, electrifying her as Cair Paravel began to fade into the distance. The further they ventured, the more productive she felt but with that satisfaction came a sense of fear, as well. As night fell across the Eastern Ocean, the valiant found herself spiraling once again into waves of panic.   
      “Susan, can I speak with you for a moment?” Lucy asked from the hall. The gentle sighed and set her pen down, immersed in secret paperwork.   
      “Lucy, it’s late. You should be in bed” she replied from the other side of the closed door.   
      “Well, so should you but that hasn’t stopped either of us, has it?” Lucy fired back. “Listen, Susan, I need to speak with you immediately. I need someone to talk to.”  
      “Lucy” the gentle sighed, “If this is about your cordial, you have nothing to worry about. By tomorrow, we should arrive in Kronne and then everything will be all taken care of. Until then, you need to sleep. Please.”  
      Though she didn’t want to give up, Lucy knew there was no shaking her sister. Susan was distant and obviously preoccupied– with what, however, the valiant hadn’t the slightest clue. The moment she felt Lucy was far enough away, Susan let her guard down and sank slowly into her nearby chair. A bejeweled finger ran across the pages of parchment sprawled across her desk and a pang of longing struck her chest hard. Lately, she had begun to feel like taffy being pulled in fifteen different directions, never getting a moment to cool down and relax. In the privacy of her bunk, however, she was granted the opportunity to indulge in her own otherwise neglected pasttimes. She needed some isolation, some time to recharge, or else she feared she would implode under the overwhelming responsibility of being both a sister and a queen.   
      Defeated, Lucy trudged down the hall back toward her chambers. She supposed if she was to feel anxious, then she would just have to face it alone. Nobody else seemed to care very much. Suddenly, however, she got an idea.   
      “Eilonwy?” she called softly, rapping lightly at the door. The huntress rose from her bed, eyes heavy, and swung the door open. “Eilonwy, can I speak with you for a moment?” Without hesitation, the huntress ushered the little queen inside and motioned for her to sit upon the bed.  
      “What seems to be the trouble, your majesty?” Eilonwy asked, seating herself on the edge of the bed.   
      “I don’t know, I just…I’m kind of…scared…about tomorrow. I just need someone to talk to about it” Lucy replied. Eilonwy cocked an eyebrow, urging her to continue. With a sigh, the youngest Pevensie drew her knees up to her chest and explained. “Maybe Susan was right. Maybe this is all a huge mistake, that we should’ve called off the trip. What if these fireflowers don’t really exist? And we’ve come all this way for nothing? I know the idea of not having my cordial terrifies me, but I think the thought of this entire thing being pointless scares me even more.”   
      A sigh broke past Eilonwy’s lips. Apparently she was becoming the designated royal counselor, or so it seemed. “Lucy, I know you’re nervous. I am, too–”  
      “You are?” she interrupted.   
      “Yes. I am” Eilonwy replied. “But there is nothing we can do about what will happen other than to wait and see how everything turns out. I know that sounds horrible and probably doesn’t help one bit but we just have to know that whatever happens, it’s all for the best.” The huntress prayed she sounded convincing, but even she didn’t fully believe herself.  
      Lucy nodded slowly, thoughtfully, before breaking the streak of silence. “Eilonwy…? Can you please tell me the story again? The one about the island and the lady who guards the fireflowers?”   
      Eilonwy chuckled lightly and crossed her legs at the foot of the bed. By now she figured it was safe to assume Lucy wasn’t planning on moving and proceeded to tuck her in and tell her the tale. She listend intently, eyes wide as she pondered whether such a myth really could ever be true. She remembered the illustration Eilonwy had showed her of Iraflora, the flower’s guardian, and wondered if she was as steadfast and unrelenting in reality as the story made her seem. If she even existed in the first place, that is. And even if she did, who was to say she would think of Lucy any differently than she had the many lost sailors who searched for the flower before her? They were no doubt mere skeletons on the shorelines by now, bones scorched and loot repurposed.   
      As Lucy slept that night, Eilonwy rested her head upon the desk in her chamber, watching as the little queen’s chest rose and fell softly. She had no trouble with her stealing her bed, but what she did question was what made Lucy confide in her of all people? Tiptoeing across the room, Eilonwy snuck down the hall and gently rapped on Susan’s door.   
      “Lucy, I told you, please go to bed!” she complained, exasperated, as she swung open the door. Her face shone red in the candlelight when she discovered her midnight visitor was definitely not her sister.   
      “Well, I think you’d be pleased to know your sister finally did go to sleep. In my bed” Eilonwy whispered harshly. She didn’t even wait for Susan’s permission before pushing past her into the room. Upon entry, the maiden immediately noticed the large collection of papers scattered about. Curiosity seized her as she peered upon the files but before she could get a decent view, Susan swooped in and detracted her attention. “Keeping secrets, are we?” Eilonwy asked slyly.   
      “No, I don’t think you have any right to look upon official government papers, let alone waltz right into my room in the middle of the night unwarranted!” Susan scolded.   
      “Well, you must be hiding something if you’re getting this upset about it” Eilonwy smirked. Susan stammered a moment, face contorting, before crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.   
      “Eilonwy, it’s very late and I’m very busy so unless you have something important to waste my time with, I am asking you as kindly as possible to please leave” Susan spoke. She tried to keep her voice level but it was easy to detect the undertones of frustration wavering in her words.   
      “What I want to know is what could you possibly be working on here that is far more important than your baby sister’s wellbeing?” Eilonwy asked, her query like knives digging into Susan’s flesh. Anger rose in the queen’s throat but fizzled out before she could make any real use of it.   
      “That is absolutely none of your business!” Susan replied.   
      “Really? Because it sounds like a poor excuse to me” Eilonwy shot back.   
      “Listen, what I do in my spare time is not your concern! Not that I even have any spare time these days” she retorted.   
      “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere!” Eilonwy said triumphantly.   
      “No, we are not because this is where we stop!” Susan shouted back. “Now leave my chambers, Eilonwy, and that is a royal order.”   
      “Oh really?” Eilonwy taunted. “And what are you to do if I refuse?”   
      “Then I will have no choice but to call for the captain and have you escorted out!” Susan commanded.  
      “Fine then. Call Guildmore! Tell him what a nuisance I’ve become. Better yet, call Peter and Edmund. A true royal removal! I’m sure they’d be mighty interested in your little pet project here!”   
      “What is your obsession with my private property? Hmm? Why can’t you just obey orders? Why do you refuse to obey your queen?” Susan asked, voice rising higher and higher in volume with each level of frustration Eilonwy broke through.   
      “I refuse to leave until I get an answer! Why are you neglecting your sister?” Eilonwy shouted back.   
      “Because I’m tired!” Susan finally cracked. “I’ve hardly had a moment to myself since we began this stupid journey and I’m tired! Ever since we walked through that godforsaken wardrobe, I’ve been pulled every which way into wars and treaties and now I have an entire country looking to me for guidance when I can’t even guide myself! All I want is a smple night alone without anyone asking anything of me! Why is that so hard to ask for?”   
      It wasn’t that Eilonwy wasn’t a sympathetic creature, because she liked to believe in some way that she was. However, she found it hard to find sympathy for the gentle as she stood before her screaming in a rather un-gentle fashion. Grimacing, Eilonwy clenched her fists at her sides and sucked in a deep breath. “So you’re telling me all of this is just because you’re ‘tired’? Oh, bullshit, Susan! We’re all tired! That’s no excuse!”  
      “You have no right–!” the queen began but Eilonwy interrupted before she could finish.   
      “You are a queen, Susan! You have a duty to your country, nonetheless your family, and you need to start acting as such! Your sister is passed out in someone else’s bed because you turned her away when she needed you! You need to start thinking less about yourself and more about what is expected of you” Eilonwy lectured. It wasn’t until she had finished speaking that a bitter taste formed in her mouth and she made a truly horrifying realization: in that moment, she sounded exactly like her mother.   
      Susan’s eyes brimmed with tears but she refused to cry. “I never asked for this, Eilonwy! It’s not like I wandered into this country expecting a talking Lion to make me a queen!”   
      “You act as if you’re the only one responsible for Narnia, Susan” Eilonwy fired back. “But guess what? You’re not! Your siblings are under just as much stress as you are and I’m sure they all wish they could have a night off to themselves just as much as you do. But you know what they’re doing instead? They’re signing legal documents and creating organizations and working to better this fucking country. Last I checked, you haven’t done a single thing to help Narnia other than the classic group projects.”   
      “You think I don’t want to help Narnia?” Susan replied. “You have no idea, Eilonwy. You have no idea how much I want to do but I can’t accomplish any of it when people are constantly coming to me for help with one thing or another! Why do you think I’ve locked myself away tonight? I need a break from the legal matters, the everyday grind, so I can actually work on things that I want to do! If I didn’t, I would have no reason to have brought all of this aboard!” Susan shouted. By now, she had given up holding back tears, letting them rush down her flushed cheeks. Her arm spanned across the table to display the books and papers scattered across it, an invitation for Eilonwy to finally take a look.   
      “Susan, these are architecture studies. What the bloody hell are you doing studying architecture?” Eilonwy asked, confused.  
      “All those sick and abandoned children in Galma had me thinking about all those who are orphaned or underprivileged in our own country. I’ve been wanting to propose an idea for an orphanage ever since we returned but between entertaining visitors and all the drama that ensued from that, I haven’t had a single second to myself to even so much as think of starting this, let alone giving myself a much needed personal break. Lucy may be queen, too, but she’s still a child. There is only so much that she can do and where she falls short, I have to pick up the slack. That’s exhausting, Eilonwy. Not that you would understand, since all you ever think of is yourself” Susan explained, catching her breath and wiping her face dry.  
      Exhaustion overwhelmed Eilonwy’s body as she recoiled and shook her head. She couldn’t stand to be near Susan for one more second. “I wish you had any idea of how wrong you are” she whispered hoarsely, fists clenched at her sides, before disappearing down the hall. Silent rage overwhelmed her as she barrelled back to her chamber. She couldn’t believe Susan had the audacity to assume she was selfish. Other people were all she ever thought about.   
      As dawn stretched across the sea, Lucy stirred awake to find herself completely alone. A surge of panic rushed through her, leaping out of bed. As she rushed to the doorway, she tripped over a lump on th eground and went tumbling forward. Whipping around, she found a familiar figure curled up on the rug like a dog.   
      “Eilonwy, what are you doing?”   
      “Hmm? Oh, I decided I would just let you have the bed and so I took the floor” she explained drowsily. Squinting, she turned to investigate the scene, surprised by how quickly the night seemed to pass, before nodding slowly and hoisting herself off the ground.  
      “You go ahead and join everyone for breakfast. I’ll be down…momentarily” she replied, slinking back over to her bed. Lucy giggled softly at her slurred speech and drunken gait before departing.   
      Once she left the room, Eilonwy turned to the mirror to inspect her reflection. She wasn’t sure what she expected but she certainly found nothing extraordinarily different staring back. If anything, she looked even more gaunt and frail than usual. Rather than dwell on it, she simply shrugged and slipped into the cleanest dress she could find before following in Lucy’s footsteps.  
      “Captain Guildmore feels confident we should arrive at Kronne by daybreak” Peter explained that morning. Eilonwy listened halfheartedly as he and his siblings chatted idly, taking particular interest in every comment Susan made. The huntress was still bitter from their argument the night before and the tension between them now was obvious. Lucy glanced between the two of them, unsure of what exactly had transpired between them. She hated the thought of even more drama but couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was mad at each other for one reason or the other. She did her best not to think too  deeply into it. After all, she had her own troubles to focus on. She didn’t want to expend any more energy on anything that detracted her attention from what she needed to do. Her cordial was of utmost importance. Everything else could stand to be ignored, at least to the best of her ability.   
      The rest of the day proved to be rather mundane, everyone occupied with their own endeavors. Lucy spent much of the day with Edmund, the only one she feared wasn’t angry with anyone, and found a pleasant distraction in his company. He understood how nervous she must have been and wanted to do everything in his power to make her feel relaxed during this waiting period, playing chess and card games with her in his chamber and telling one another wild stories.   
      Eilonwy stood upon the deck as she scanned the horizon for any sign of Kronne. The Seven Isles were growing nearer, faint masses of land seemingly perched on the edge of the world. A shiver ran down her spine at their proximity. Whichever island Kronne was, Maldonado was certainly not very far. Of all the thoughts plaguing her mind, Peter’s betrayal was still at the forefront.   
      As if manifested from her subconscious, the High King suddenly approached to join his friend on deck. He glanced her way as he leaned upon the rail beside her, sucking in a deep breath and struggling to find the right words to say. “I heard about last night” he finally spoke.   
      “Oh, great. Are you here to yell at me, too?” Eilonwy scoffed.  
      “You really do only think about yourself, you know that?” Peter grimaced, offended. Eilonwy opened her mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted. “I don’t exactly appreciate you barging into my sister’s room in the middle of the night and telling her off like that. If you were anyone else, you’d be black and blue.”   
      “Yeah? Well–” she started but was yet again interrupted.   
      “I do, however, appreciate you defending and looking after Lucy. I didn’t exactly appreciate Susan casting her off like she did, either” he spoke. Eilonwy’s gaze softened, releasing a sigh as she turned her attention back to the sea.  
      “I only did it because I was upset. I felt like Susan just wasn’t listening. I couldn’t understand why Lucy would come to me of all people instead of her own sister for comfort. It bothered me, you know? But I guess it wasn’t my job to invade in the first place” Eilonwy replied.   
      “You’re right. It wasn’t” Peter said. “Susan came to me this morning incredibly upset about everything you said to her. I can’t have you picking fights with my family, Eilonwy” _Because someday I hope you’ll be a part of it_ , he thought to himself, eyes glancing to her left hand. He didn’t dare express any of this out loud. Not yet, anyways.  
      With a groan, Eilonwy buried her face in her hands. “I hate all of these stupid rules. I liked it better when society was nothing but oppressed animals” she mumbled. “Humans are far too complicated.”  
      “All you need to do is just say you’re sorry” Peter said.  
      “But it’s not that simple” Eilonwy argued.  
      “Why not?” he replied.  
      “Because I’m tired of being blamed for everything, Peter. I’m tired of every little thing that goes wrong being my fault. You know what? Maybe I am selfish but that’s because I feel like I can never trust anyone to actually listen to me for once” Eilonwy explained.   
      “Hey, don’t you start with that again!” Peter scolded. “I listen to you, Ellie.”   
      “No, you don’t” she countered. Glancing to the boy at her side, the defeat on his face convinced her now was the time for truth. She tightened her grip on the rails, leaned back, sucked in a deep breath, prepared herself for the conversation ahead. “Do you want to know why I’m mad at you?” Peter’s eyes widened, leaning forward, desperate. “I’m mad at you because you blamed me for what happened at the stables.”   
      “Well, technically it was Everlast’s fault, not yours” Peter corrected.  
      “No, Pete, that’s not…that’s not the issue here” Eilonwy replied, rubbing her temples. “Yes, Everlast spooked Lemuel and nearly pounded him into the ground but only because she was protecting me.”  
      “Protecting you from what?” Peter asked, beginning to fear her answer.  
      Eilonwy mustered her strength before replying. “That night…that wasn’t the first time Lemuel tried to take advantage of me. It was, by far, the worst attempt, I’ll give him that, but not the first. He was suspicious of me from the moment he laid eyes on me. He wanted to take advantage of me, to threaten me for information. He was infatuated with me. That day at the stables, he approached me while I was prepping Everlast. He was…discomforting and eerie. I knew right away that he wanted something from me. And then he…he gripped my waist and lifted me up onto my own horse. As if I was incapable of mounting my own mare. As if he wanted an excuse to touch me. Something tells me that’s not the only thing he wanted me to mount. Everlast was only trying to keep me safe and yet when you came running in, you sided with a man you barely even knew! Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Peter?”   
      The High King’s face had grown rather pale as he listened to Eilonwy tell her story, his hands shaking at his sides. He was physically nauseated both by the things she had told him and by his inability to see through Lemuel’s facade. “Ellie, I…I’m so sorry” he choked out. He attempted to take her hands in his as a sign of comfort and apology but she quickly rejected his advances. “I had no idea, I just thought…”   
      “You didn’t think, Peter. That’s the thing. All you cared about was making an ally. You never stopped to question why Everlast did what she did in the first place” Eilonwy interrupted.   
      “You’re right” Peter sighed. “I should’ve trusted that something must have been wrong and defended you. If I had, then maybe things wouldn’t have escalated the way they did, and I wouldn’t have put you in danger.”  
      “It would’ve helped if you had defended Edmund spy idea, too” Eilonwy added. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes jokingly but it was clear there was obvious upset hidden beneath.   
      “I seem to really be screwing up this whole king thing, aren’t I?” he replied.  
      “Oh, no, don’t you try to get any pity out of me. You knew this would be difficult from the very start” Eilonwy said. She was so tired of everyone’s whining. This was life now whether they liked it or not. Obviously Aslan thought they could handle things, so she didn’t understand their astronomical doubt.  
      “That doesn’t make this any easier, you know” Peter retorted. “But” he then added after a beat of silence, a small smile creeping upon his face, “you know what does?”   
      “What?”  
      “You.”   
      “Me? What do you mean? If anything, I’m certain I just make things ten times harder” she replied, but Peter shook his head vigorously.  
      “No, you don’t. I don’t know where I’d be without you, Ellie” Peter replied, placing his hand upon hers. “I know we don’t always see eye to eye but…but without you, I don’t think things would’ve been the same. You helped us get to Aslan and defeat the White Witch. You’ve helped us adjust to life at Cair Paravel these past few months. You’ve done so much more good than you give yourself credit for.”   
      “Peter, stop” Eilonwy begged, averting her eyes, but Peter gently cupped her cheek and turned her head to face him. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him, the look on his face and the glimmer in his eyes. She was terrified of what he was about to say to her. Red flags and warning sirens began clouding her brain, urging her to run below deck or hide in the crow’s nest or, at this point, just abandon all logic and jump ship.   
      “Eilonwy…” he began dreamily.  
      “Peter, please, don’t” she pleaded.  
      “No, just listen to me. Eilonwy, I–”   
      Before he could finish, the ship jolted and Eilonwy nearly stumbled into Peter’s arms. A faun in the crow’s nest cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted a hearty “Land ho!” In a matter of seconds, the door leading below deck swung open and Lucy blurred past the crowd toward the ship’s bow. There, stretched out before her, was the most brilliant island she had ever seen. Soft mountains dipped and curved across the landscapes, valleys and shore smothered in the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. Even from their distance, the most glorious fragrance wafted from the fields and enticed Lucy to grow ever nearer. A swell of delight radiated from inside of her as she clutched her cordial to her chest. All of Kronne was in the palm of her hand, awaiting her to step upon it’s shores.   
      “Come on, hurry up! Let’s go!” Lucy shouted, tugging on her siblings’ hands. She couldn’t stand to wait a moment longer, not when everything she had been yearning for was just within reach.   
      “Lucy, hold on!” Susan replied. “Just wait a second. Nobody said we had to get off just yet.” Lucy shot a glare at her older sister, tightening her grip on her cordial.  
      “But I want to go now! We shouldn’t waste any time” she countered.  
      “I think Susan might be right, Lucy” Edmund stepped forward. The valiant whipped around to face him, almost betrayed. After all that time they had spent together that day, how kind and supportive he had been. Before she could protest, Edmund continued, “Think about it, Lucy. We don’t really know for sure what’s on this island and if we leave now, we might not be considering the kinds of danger we could run into. Don’t you think it would be better if we prepared ourselves first and then set out carefully?”   
      Lucy chewed over his words a moment before agreeing in defeat. Despite her desperation, she knew that safety was of utmost importance. If not, then that fireflower juice may end up becoming even more necessary.   
      “I’ll head down to the armament and get us some reinforcements” Eilonwy stated. The Pevensies watched her with suspicious eyes as she rushed down into the belly of the ship, face flushed and hands shaking. Peter joined the group shortly afterward looking much the same.   
      “What has gotten into you two?” Susan asked, equal parts curious and irritated. The look on her brother’s face read sweet and hazy but a bitter aftertaste from the night before hung in the back of her throat. She wanted Peter to be happy, of course, but why did he have to be happy with her of all people? The gentle still didn’t quite see the appeal.   
      “Nothing. We were just talking” Peter replied, running a hand through his hair. Susan cocked an eyebrow, hoping for elaboration.   
      “Did you talk to her about last night?” she inquired. Peter nodded. “And? Well, what did she say?”   
      “Susan…” Peter sighed. “Must we talk about this now?”   
      The gentle pursed her lips and crossed her arms, completely displeased. She wanted answers. She wanted to know that her older brother was defending her like he ought to. She was his own flesh and blood, he was automatically required to side with her instead of that crass and crude woman. Peter appeared exhausted, however, and perhaps a little defeated. His eyes darted to Lucy nearly hanging over the edge of the ship, anxious to step aboard the island, and Susan was once more reminded that there were more important things at stake. She would have to shelf the resolution of her disdain for some other time.   
      Peter rushed below deck, nails digging into his palms, as he searched for Eilonwy. “What is taking you so long? Lucy’s getting restless” he called to her from across the way. She looked up at him, bow in hand, and blinked dumbly a few times.  
      “I’m sorry, did you want to step onto a death island with inferior supplies? Inspection takes time, Peter” she explained, plucking the bow’s string to test it’s strength.   
      “Well, while I’m down here, we need to talk” he replied. He came nearer, then rested a hand upon the bow, lowering it from her focus. She furrowed her brows as she rose her gaze up to meet his, a surge of panic rushing through her veins.   
      “Peter, we have nothing to talk about” she croaked.   
      “Yes, we do. I never finished saying what I needed to say up on deck” he explained.   
      “Peter, please, you’ve said enough” Eilonwy begged. She turned to walk away from him but he snatched her forearm and forced her attention on him. There was a certain wildness in his eyes that terrified her, but it was not of malicious origin. Instead, it was something fond and affectionate, something dreamy and disgusting. Her stomach flipped.   
      “I’m still not finished” he murmured. “Ellie, there are some things I need you to know. Important things. And if being king has taught me one thing, it’s how to decide what’s most important.”   
      _Oh shit, oh shit, please don’t do this_ , Eilonwy thought frantically. She felt her entire body begin to quake as Peter rose a hand up to carress her cheek. Everything felt hot and cold all at once and suddenly Peter’s face appeared grossly unfamiliar to her. She was staring at a stranger whose mere presence made her feel like she was going to hurl. She needed a distraction, a detour, an interruption. She needed an escape.  
      “Eilonwy, ever since we came to Narnia, you’ve been there” Peter began. “You haven’t always been pleasant company, but you’ve been worthwhile company and I can’t imagine my life now without you. I want your company always. You mean so much to me, Ellie. You’re worth so much more than you know, and…and…” Eilonwy’s eyes widened, her heart racing and palms growing clammy. “Eilonwy, I–”   
      “Pete, you better come quick!” a voice suddenly called from the top of the stairs. The pair turned to find Edmund looking rather distraught, an urgency in his tone spelling trouble.   
      “What’s the matter, Ed?” Peter asked, secretly frustrated. It seemed as though every attempt he made to express his feelings was always interrupted in one way or another. Was it really that hard to get some quality alone time with a girl?   
      Edmund chewed his bottom lip and wrung his hands together nervously. He had no idea how he was going to admit this, but he figured being straightforward was the best possible tactic. “I swear, we only looked away for a second but, well…Lucy’s gone.”   
      In a matter of seconds, all thoughts of love and confessions completely disappeared from Peter’s brain. His blurred frame raced up the stairs ater his brother, panic-stricken. Bow still in hand, Eilonwy rushed after him. Lucy may have been a brave child but Kronne was no place for venturing alone whether there was really a fiery guardian woman there or not.   
      Susan was practically in hysterics, scanning the horizon for any sign of their baby sister. There was no way she could’ve gone very far so quickly and yet there was no sign of her anywhere.   
      “Are you sure she left for Kronne? Have you checked everywhere on the ship?” Peter asked frantically.   
      “Well, we haven’t checked everywhere but come on, Pete. Let’s be realistic” Edmund replied.   
      “There’s only so many places she could’ve gone” Susan commented, pacing back and forth.   
      “Yeah, like on that island” Eilonwy interrupted from behind. The gentle groaned and tossed her head back.  
      “Don’t you start” she warned.   
      “I think Eilonwy might be right” Edmund added. All eyes turned to him. “I mean, think about it: that island is the only place Lucy really wanted to go. She’s been thinking about it non-stop for days. We were taking too long so she took matters into her own hands and went out there by herself. It’s the most realistic scenario.”   
      Peter’s face turned stark white as he slowly approached the railing, gripping the wood tightly. “Then there’s only one thing left to do now. We have to go after her.” Wasting no time, Peter hopped aboard the last lifeboat, ushering his siblings to follow suit, and began rowing toward Kronne. Eilonwy watched from the side of the ship, shaking her head and sighing.   
      “Peter, you’re being hasty! Just because Lucy is gone doesn’t mean you still don’t need to prepare!” she called after him. But Peter and his siblings were already too far away to hear her. With a groan, she grumbled something incomprehensible beneath her breath and stormed back to the armament to prepare for battle. She had no choice now but to become a walking arsenal. Nobody else seemed to be thinking ahead. If they were to go on a suicide mission, they needed someone to save their skins at the last second and Eilonwy seemed to somehow fit that role in every scenario. By the time she was finished, she swore she had gained fifty pounds just by the sheer volume of weaponry she had scavenged. Swords, bows, arrows, even a flail, and lastly a collection of kerchiefs, one of which she had already wrapped around her face like a trainrobber.   
      Upon reaching the deck, she shouted some orders to Guildmore and his men, then swung her way down to the sea by rope and began her swim to shore.   
      “Alright, I think our best plan of action would be to split up” Peter announced as he rowed onto the beach.   
      “No, Peter, I refuse to get separated. We need to stick together” Susan demanded. She looked about the island nervously, absorbing the view. It was beautiful, no doubt, but there was something about the place that made her anxious. Or perhaps she was just far too concerned about Lucy to enjoy such a stunning scene.   
      “Fine, you stay with Ed, then. But I’m going alone. This is a big island and we’ll find her faster if we split up” Peter said. Before Susan could protest, he was already trudging through the fields of flowers toward a large mountain in the distance.   
      The moment they began traversing the island, however, something strange began to take hold of them. A tingling sensation filled their heads, running up from their fingers and toes, through their arms and legs, and then across the rest of their body as all the tension in their muscles melted away. Colors appeared brighter and smells became stronger, especially that of the fireflowers themselves. Sweet and enticing, it lured them forward and Peter couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and stroking their satin petals. In all their intoxication, however, they failed to notice the less pleasant aspects of the island. Bones scattered the shoreline, charred flesh tangled up in the gardens. As Eilonwy crawled onto the beach, she caught sight of the royals swaying to and fro and sucked in a deep, frustrated breath. _And so it begins_ , she thought to herself, tightening the kerchief around her face. As expected, she was going to have to swoop in and save the day.   
      Peter trudged through the fields, hands clenched at his sides, desperate to remain focused on the task at hand. Keeping his concentration became more and more difficult as the further he ventured, the foggier his mind became until he had nearly forgotten what he was there for in the first place. His limbs numbed and breath shallowed, his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. With a sigh, he leaned against the trunk of a tree and fought to stay awake. As he began to feel himself slip away, however, a pair of hands reached out from behind and seized him. He struggled in their grasp but he was far too tired and couldn’t hold them off. They wrapped something around his face, tying it tightly at the back of his head, before spinning him around to face his captor.   
      “Eilonwy?!” Peter gasped incredulously.   
      “You can thank me later. Where are the others?” she asked, all business.  
      “We split up so we could search for Lucy” he replied.   
     The huntress groaned and whacked him on the arm hard. “Well that’s just about the stupidest idea you’ve ever had! They could be anywhere! Nice, Peter. Of course you have to make this ten times harder than it needed to be.”   
      “Why do you just automatically assume this was my idea?” he protested. Eilonwy crossed her arms and stared at him blankly.   
      “Peter, let’s be realistic here: how likely is it that this wasn’t your idea?” she countered. Peter sucked in a deep breath and hesitated answering. “That’s what I thought” Eilonwy added when he remained silent. “Now, come on. Let’s not waste any more time. Sorry to break it to you, Pete, but your siblings may be in no small danger.”   
      It was her use of the word “danger” that truly terrified Peter. He knew this island was questionable at best but with a tone so confident, he knew she must be right. He chased after her back toward the shoreline, beginning to feel his strength return but with it came a swell of terror. “What kind of danger are we talking about here?”   
      “The same kind I found you in” Eilonwy replied flippantly. The High King eyed her in confusion, silently begging for her to explain. Rolling her eyes, she leaned down and plucked one of the fireflowers from the ground. The moment she did so, a pang of panic surged through Peter’s veins as if she had just spit on the Queen of England. “See this? This is danger. This is the worm on the end of the hook on a fishing line. This is what’s going to kill you if you don’t prepare.”   
      “Eilonwy, that’s a flower” Peter replied quizzically.   
      “I know what it is, Pete! But that’s exactly the point. You think these flowers are harmless but here’s one thing you don’t know: they’re hypnotic. One whiff and you’re off to La La Land, high as a kite” she explained. Peter paused a moment as the realization washed over him, hand slowly rising to touch the kerchief tied around his face. At least he now understood why he and his friend were made up like thieves. A vision suddenly formed in his mind of Susan and Edmund completely oblivious to the hallucinatory qualities of the plant, stumbling around lost and tired and confused. He didn’t even want to think of Lucy in the same state. Their search suddenly felt all the more urgent.   
      Hours passed with no luck as the pair scoured in the heat for any sign of the others. Even some clue as to where they had disappeared to, such as a cave or abyss, would’ve sufficed. They were running out of time– despite their kerchiefs, they weren’t completely immune to the flower’s affects. Just the sheer sight of them was enough to blur their vision and muddle their thoughts. As Eilonwy forced herself to stay focused, Peter wandered a few feet away in hopes of finding any clues nearer to the mountains. As he did, though, the ground disappeared below his feet and he was suddenly engulfed in darkness.   
      The High King’s startled shout captured Eilonwy’s attention but as she whipped around, he was nowhere to be found. She called his name but found no answer. Gripping at her hair, she was immediately overcome with frustration. She stomped over to where Peter had been standing, expecting to find him lying in the grass but instead was met with a gaping hole in the ground. In that moment, her anger quickly morphed into fear.   
      “Peter?!” she called into the abyss. No answer. She called again but was met with silence all the same. Dropping a pebble into it proved it’s depth, the little stone disappearing with an echoed thud. She knew in a moment that there was only one thing left for her to do. Sucking in a deep breath, Eilonwy swung her legs over the edge and dropped down into the darkness.   
      The tunnel was long and Eilonwy found herself falling for quite a few seconds before tumbling into the hard earth. Once she landed, she was surprised to find that the hole wasn’t totally uncivilized. Torches mounted on the walls illuminated a long, twisting corridor ahead. A chorus of voices echoed from the other end. Pulling her kerchief away from her face, Eilonwy snagged a torch and stepped lightly toward the sounds of distress.  
      As she grew closer, the noise became clearer until she could finally identify the bickering of siblings and the low, gravelly voice of their captor. “…and if anything, I ought to roast you all and leave you to rot like the others” they growled as Eilonwy grew nearer.   
      “Please, miss! If you let us go, we promise we’ll never come back ever again!” Susan begged.   
      “Oh, how I pity you!” the voice mocked, pretending to break down in hysterical tears.   
      “If you don’t let us go right now, I swear in the name of Aslan, I’ll–!” Peter began but was quickly interrupted.   
      “You’ll what? Stab me with that little needle at your side? As if!” she jested. “If not for my flames, that blade would never have been forged in the first place.”   
      Peering around the edge of the tunnel, Eilonwy caught sight of a large cage made entirely of fire burning in the middle of a circular room. And there stood their captor, Iraflora. She was just as the legends said with crimson hair and amber eyes and enflamed feathers breaking through every gash in her sunkissed flesh. She singed the ground with every step she took, every word pouring out of her mouth like molten lava, dark and hard and cracking.   
     “Listen, why don’t we bargain? Whatever you want, we’ll give it to you! In exchange for our freedom” Edmund negotiated.   
      A fiery finger skated down the woman’s jaw and to her collarbone in a sensual display of thought. “Why do you think you deserve to be spared any more than the others? What is it that you find so outrageously worthwhile about yourselves?”   
      “Is that what this has come to?” Peter argued. “Degradation?”   
      The woman sucked her teeth and raised her eyebrows in displeasure. “I’m just trying to understand where the source of your desperation comes from. I’ve seen men of the lowest statures beg for their lives far more than you lot have.”   
      “Just, please! Let us go!” Susan pleaded. Iraflora flashed a quick grin in the gentle’s direction, then added:   
      “Except for her. She’s become one of the whiniest victims I’ve found yet.”   
      By now, Susan was beginning to regret this entire trip even more than she already had. Not that she liked to admit this, either, but she was also beginning to regret not listening to Eilonwy about preparing. If only she had thought to bring her horn with her, then perhaps none of this would have become such an event. The blares would surely be loud enough to reach the ship and Guildmore and his crew would come racing to save them. If only.   
      “There has to be something you want that we can trade you for” Edmund spoke. “Anything in the world, we’ll do it for you!” Peter nudged his brother in the arm, terrified he was starting to make promises they wouldn’t be able to fulfill, but it was no use. Iraflora was a cruel opponent.  
      “Anything in the world?” she cooed, tilting her chin to the sky. Edmund nodded enthusiastically. A sly smile spread across her face as she clenched her fists at her sides and screamed, “Then I would love for you all to shut up because the only thing I want involves killing the lot of you!”   
      _If you really wanted to kill them, you would’ve done it already,_ Eilonwy thought to herself, rolling her eyes. She pressed her back against the tunnel wall and tried to think of a plan as quickly as possible.   
      “But how to do it is the question” Iraflora continued thoughtfully. “I can’t just extinguish all of you in the usual fashion– no, no. Where would be the fun in that? After all, if you all insist you’re so special, then you deserve a special sendout to match!”   
      Lucy froze, hands folded tight against her chest. The reality of their situation was really beginning to sink in and the valiant couldn’t help but feel like she was very much at fault. “P-please, miss! Spare my brothers and sister, at least. They didn’t do anything!” she begged, voice cracking. Iraflora seemed to take great interest in the small queen’s sudden outburst, blinking a few times before urging her to go on. “You see, it was my idea to come here” Lucy explained. “They didn’t want to, but I insisted! They don’t deserve any of this, ma'am. So if you’d please, just let them go and…and take your frustrations out on me.”   
      To say her older siblings were impressed would be an understatement. There was something about Lucy’s selflessness in that moment that suddenly made her seem much older than she was. This still didn’t change the fact, however, that what she was offering was wrong. “No, we deserve the blame just as much as Lucy does” Peter stepped forward. “If she goes down, we all go down with her.” Tears welled up in the littlest one’s eyes as her brother smiled back at her with solemn unity. She unclasped her hands to grasp his firmly, Susan and Edmund following suit until the four of them were standing with fingers interlocked staring at the face of death herself. Despite the touching display of family strength, Iraflora’s opinion went unchanged. A look of disgust painted her face.   
      “Alright, if you’re all so set on going down together, then I know just what I’ll do. I’ll go in order from oldest to youngest. That way the last to die will see the first three go before her!” the woman cheered. Lucy tightened her grip on her brother’s hand, terror-stricken.   
      “Don’t listen to her, Lucy. She’s just trying to scare you” Peter reassured, kneeling down to her level. “She’s not really going to hurt any of us” he continued, then turned and glared in Iraflora’s direction to add, “Not if I can help it.”   
      “Oh, what a big, strong man we think we are!” Iraflora jested, reaching out to scrape her finger along his cheek. Peter winced as her touch burned his flesh, leaving a nasty scar from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Even then, he refused to let his guard down.   
      Peter opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word, another voice rang from the darkness. “It’s not so much the man that’s strong but the numbers backing him” it spoke. From the mouth of the cave, a familiar figure stepped into the light. Eilonwy. She glared up at the spirit with all the ferocity she could muster, sword at the ready.  
      “Eilonwy, what are you doing…?!” Peter called uneasily.   
      “Well, someone has to put out your fires!” Eilonwy smirked, glancing to the Pevensies. She seemed to find herself rather funny, though Iraflora starkly disagreed. “After all” the huntress continued, “you can only fan the flames for so long.”   
      “You…you wench!” Iraflora shrieked, clenching her fists at her sides. Her hands burned bright white the tighter she held them, growing hotter like metal beneath a flame. She whipped around to her prisoners with wild eyes, screaming, “I see we called for reinforcements! How divine! Now I’ll have five to slay!” She narrowed her eyes back at Eilonwy and added in a growl, “Well, you know what they say: the more the merrier.” In one swift motion, she lunged forward, fingers itching to wrap themselves around the girl’s neck. She erupted in a bright blaze as she connected with the wall, Eilonwy tumbling out of the way just in time.   
      “Eilonwy, for the love of god, get out of here!” Peter screamed, inching as close to the cage as possible without burning himself. “You’re going to get yourself killed! Go!”   
      “And miss all this? I wouldn’t dream of it!” she shouted, ducking and slashing at Iraflora in retaliation.   
     The spirit shrieked, barely harmed by the blade, her entire body glowing white with rage. “You intruders are causing far more trouble than you’re worth!”  
      “Are you sure about that?” Eilonwy asked, smirking. “Or are we worth more trouble than you think?”   
      “Eilonwy, I’m going to have to agree with Peter on this one” Edmund called. “She’s too strong for you! You can’t fight her!”   
      “If I can’t fight her, then what would you say I’m doing right now?” Eilonwy shouted back. “Besides, I think it’s a little too late for a retreat! It’s either me or her now. One of us has to go!”   
      Iraflora spouted an endless stream of fireballs in Eilonwy’s direction, taking advantage of her rapidly decreasing energy. A grin spread across her face as she then lurched forward with indeterminable speed. This time, escape was futile. Eilonwy slammed to the ground with a hard thud, impacted by the sheer force of her opponent. Iraflora hovered over her, pinning her to the ground, with a devilish smile upon her face. “Any last words, wench?”   
      Flames licked at Eilonwy’s face, searing the tips of her hair and the edges of her clothing. Sweat beaded on her brow as she gasped for breath, desperate to break free but unsure of how. Staring straight at the woman’s bright eyes, Eilonwy made a terrible, grating sound before spitting right in the woman’s face. A small stream of smoke billowed up from where she saliva had hit. Iraflora shrieked, enraged, and lifted a hand to smite the girl but was suddenly interrupted by a rogue dagger slicing through her arm.   
      The spirit growled viciously toward her prisoners. “Get away from her!” a voice shouted. Eilonwy identified it immediately: Susan.   
      “Or you’ll what?” Iraflora tested, keeping a firm grip on Eilonwy’s wrists.   
      Susan paused for a moment, trying to find a harsh enough response. “I’ll…” she stammered.   
      “That’s what I thought” the spirit replied. As she turned her attention back to Eilonwy, however, the huntress took advantage of the distraction to knee the woman in the chest, loosening her grip and escaping her clutch. The moment she was free, Eilonwy scuttled to the farthest wall of the cave huffing and panting, vision blurry as she searched for her sword on the ground. Iraflora growled, reaching over to pick up Lucy’s dagger and stalked closer. She pinned the girl’s body against the wall with one strong hand, raising the blade in the other with eyes set on the huntress’s chest. Before she could stab, a clinking sound then captured her attention as Lucy’s cordial fell to the floor.  
      “Don’t hurt her! Please!” the littlest Pevensie begged. Iraflora’s eyes fell to the vial, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.  
      “What kind of sick trick is this?” she asked.   
      Lucy inhaled shakily, forcing herself to look the woman right in the eyes as she explained. “It’s not a trick. It’s an explanation. It’s my fault my family and I invaded your island and that cordial is to blame. It was a gift from Father Christmas, in Narnia, along with that dagger, to use in the Battle of Beruna against the White Witch.”  
      “You expect me to believe you four blubbering idiots defeated Jadis?” Iraflora replied. Lucy nodded.   
      “My brothers and sister and I were sent here to fulfill the prophecy! That two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve would overthrow the White Witch and restore Narnia” she explained. The spirit paused a moment to consider Lucy’s explanation, chewing over her words and weighing the supposed accuracy. It was no secret that most anyone knew of the prophecy, but she found it hard to believe children such as these had been the ones to fulfill it. They didn’t seem like the warrior types she expected of them. “That cordial was filled with the juice of your fireflowers, and was of great use to me after the battle…and then some” Lucy continued.   
      “And what happened to it’s contents, then?” Iraflora asked.   
      “I accidentally used it all…” Lucy admitted. Her cheeks burned bright red in embarrassment. “I didn’t realize it would drain so quickly. I just wanted to help everyone but…but I guess I got carried away. I didn’t want to see anyone suffer. I came here hoping to refill it but…but I don’t think I want to anymore. Not if it’s going to cause so much trouble. I’ve been selfish and I put everyone in danger…this is all my fault.”   
      Peter rested a hand on his baby sister’s shoulder. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and comfort her, pray that Iraflora would have some sympathy and release them whether they refilled the cordial or not, but he restrained himself in order to give Lucy her moment of brave confession.   
      “On whom have you used this cordial, anyway?” Iraflora inquired. An obvious interest radiated from her eyes as she began to cool down, slightly releasing her grip on Eilonwy and lowering the dagger to her hip.   
      “Everyone, I suppose” Lucy replied slowly. “I used it to cure Aslan’s army in the Battle of Beruna, and to help the Galmans during their epidemic. I even used it on my brother to heal him when he was wounded by the White Witch’s wand.” Iraflora nodded slowly as Lucy continued. “But it’s not worth all the trouble I’ve caused. Not if it puts my family at risk. I know how much those flowers mean to you, and if I had something that valuable, I certainly wouldn’t want anyone trying to take it from me, either. It was wrong of me to come here expecting you to willingly give me what is rightfully yours, and I know now that my time as a healer is up. After all, nothing can last forever, I suppose…I just…I’m so sorry. For everything.” By now Lucy was on the verge of tears but she refused to break down and cry. Not now. She needed to be strong, to let go of such fine privileges with maturity and dignity.   
      As Iraflora listened to her speak, however, her fury transformed. Rage slowly morphed into a warmth of heart, the kind that radiates from a fireplace in the midst of a brutal winter. She understood now the significance of Lucy’s journey, and how she was very much unlike the others who stepped foot upon her island. She fully released her grip on Eilonwy, who watched with awe and mild suspicion, before skating across the room to cradle the cordial in her hands. The cage’s fire began to dim as she approached and extended her hands toward the little queen. Lucy hesitated a moment, uncertain of what Iraflora wanted her to do, until the spirit urged her to take it and she obliged.  
      “Little queen, you are unlike so many others who have selfishly tried to uproot my garden” she said, voice much smoother than before. “You have proven yourself genuine and humble and true, and I commend you for your selflessness.” As the last of the flames evaporated into smoke, Iraflora coaxed Lucy toward her. Peter reached out to pull her back but paused and retracted his arm when he realized Iraflora was no longer here to fight.  
      The valiant stepped lightly, looking up to the spirit with childlike wonder and restraint. “What now…?” she asked quietly. Her brain was having trouble comprehending what was even happening, if Iraflora had truly changed her mind.   
      “Now” the spirit replied, “You shall get what you desire.” She extended a hand for Lucy to take, then shot a glare back at her siblings as if daring them to stay behind. It was a risk they were smart enough not to take. The minute Peter had the chance, he ran toward Eilonwy and seized her tightly in his arms, brushing the hair from her face. Her sweaty brow and dazed expression quickly filled him with concern and he knew right away she desperately needed fresh air. Supporting her with an arm, he followed the others through the tunnel and to the surface.   
      The sunlight seemed dazzling after having spent so much time down below, but was no doubt refreshing to those who thought they’d never see daylight ever again. Iraflora guided Lucy to a small patch of the brightest flowers, instructing her to pluck the one that appeared healthiest to her. Lucy paused for a moment, considering her options, before leaning down and gingerly plucking the purest one she could find. It’s fragrance was so potent that had she not been accompanied by the spirit herself, she surely would’ve fell over and passed out in a happy trance. Iraflora smiled knowingly as she lifted the bloom from Lucy’s grasp, levitating it between her hands mystically. She pressed her palms together and a golden glow radiated from between her fingers. The moment she separated her hands, the flower was replaced with a gelatinous bulb of red liquid. Lucy held her cordial up with wide eyes full of wonder, watching as Iraflora swirled her hands and twisted the juice into the vial.   
      “So that’s it?” Lucy asked, inspecting the bottle. “I can use this to heal any injury now?” Iraflora nodded, satisfied with her work.   
      “You might need to make use of that a bit sooner than you expected, Lu” Peter murmured, voice hard and mildly shaky. The High King knelt by the shoreline, Eilonwy curled up helplessly in his lap. Raw, red welts patched her skin. Peter could feel her heart racing out of her chest as she swayed in and out of consciousness. No amount of sea water seemed to cool her down.   
      Lucy rushed over immediately, tipping her cordial and letting a drop of fresh juice seep between Eilonwy’s lips. She released a groan as she swallowed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Her chest shook with ravenous coughs, her throat burning as the juice slid down, like swallowing whiskey. Peter brushed her hair from her face, watching with wide, panicked eyes as her injuries slowly faded into vague marks upon her skin. Eilonwy blinked awake, squinting up at Peter and then Lucy, then shifting her vision to Susan and Edmund alongside Iraflora herself. The moment she laid eyes on the fire spirit, she began to laugh.   
      “Ellie, what the hell is so goddamn funny?” Peter asked, unamused. But Eilonwy was simply far too delirious to give a proper answer. Lucy furrowed her brows, glad to see her friend healed of her physical wounds but puzzled by her emotional ones. She gazed up at Iraflora, whose face had grown rather pale and saddened.   
      “You did this to her, you know” the valiant murmured. Iraflora’s breath hitched in shock, having not expected such a blunt delivery from the young queen. However, she could not deny the truth in Lucy’s words, hollowed by regret knowing she could not reverse her terrible deeds.  
      “I was only trying to protect them…” Iraflora whispered, gently grazing the flowers’ petals. “I had no clue…”   
      “You should apologize” Lucy stated. Though apologies weren’t exactly the spirit’s niche, she knew the young queen was right. Mustering her dignity, Iraflora floated forward and knelt down beside Eilonwy. Peter wrapped his arms around her protectively, unsure of what the spirit planned to do, but with one apologetic gaze, she unlocked his trust. Rather than speak, Iraflora closed her eyes and placed a hand upon Eilonwy’s forehead.  The moment she removed her touch, Eilonwy snapped out of her trance, gasping for breath as if she had just awoken from some terrible dream. Fear provoked her, instinctively wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck and clinging to him for dear life. All he could do was rub her back and whisper reassuring words in her ear, doing his best to calm her down.   
      Irafora watched the couple for a moment, a pang of jealousy striking her right in the chest. The affection between them was undeniable. She only wished she could’ve experienced such love. As she watched on, Lucy sidled up to her and silently grasped the spirit’s hand in hers. “Thank you” she whispered, standing on tiptoes to plant a kiss upon the woman’s cheek. Iraflora’s face blushed as the little queen’s lips grazed her hot flesh, filling her with a warmth quite unlike the fiery fury she was so accustomed to.   
      “No, thank you” Iraflora whispered, looking down upon the young girl. “Without your kindness and humility, I may never have felt such warmth ever again.” Lucy grinned, pleased to have appeased the woman so, before Iraflora added, “You are welcome to return to Kronne whenever you need, as you have found a friend in the fireflower’s keeper. I pray that you may visit again soon, your majesty. It has been so long since I have had the company of a friend. May the great Aslan bless you.”   
      While Lucy was incredibly grateful for Iraflora’s kindness, it was the mention of Aslan’s name that truly captured her attention. “Do you know Aslan?” she asked. Iraflora nodded.  
      “It was he who revived me and appointed me guardian in the first place. Without his greatness, I may never have been given such an opportunity. Hence why I take my duty so seriously” Iraflora explained. Lucy nodded in understanding.   
      “I care for Aslan very much” she replied. “He is a good friend of mine. Without him, my brothers and sisters and I would never have ended up where we are now, ruling Narnia.”   
      “He is great indeed, small one” Iraflora said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back with gratitude. Lucy gazed up at her with admiration, grateful to have found a friend in which she can share her undying love for the great lion.   
      As the sun set upon Kronne and the Pevensies returned to their ship, Lucy overflowed with happiness. Things certainly did not go as smoothly as she had hoped but she didn’t regret one second. Not only did she fulfill her mission, but she reformed a hardened heart and found a friend in the process. She thought fondly of Iraflora as she watched Kronne fade into the distance and a strong hope coursed through her veins that this was only the beginning of a rather remarkable friendship.


	9. VOL 1, EP. 8: The Parlor

     _Breathe_. Ironic how something so essential could be so impossible. Shades of blue and green and purple swirled and blurred, the ocean beckoning her beneath it’s waves. Trapping her below the surface. Flooding her lungs. Dark hair shackled her, tangling around her limbs and making it impossible for her to move. She was desperate, screaming for air, fighting against the current but the ocean was a ruthless competitor and would not let her free. As her vision shifted out of focus, her mind cloudy, she sunk deeper and deeper, engulfed in the darkness. 

     The further she fell, the more she began to make out voices echoing in her ears. Fragmented sentences laced with joy and pain and horror, but completely incomprehensible like the way everything sounds when you’re just slowly waking from a long and deep sleep. She could, however, identify familiarities in tone and accent: the strong brogue of her father, the gentle carress of a mother’s whisper, the reassuring words of a boy who was pining for her hand. Out of the black burst a bright white light, blinding and brilliant, illuminating a large pair of double doors surrounded by flowers. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow about the faces floating in front of her. _Are you ready?_ one asked softly, twirling around behind her to fix something upon her head. _This is the happiest day of your life_ , said another.   
     The doors burst open with a swell of music, revealing a gutwrenchingly gaudy scene. Spanned out before he was the parlor smothered in flowers and crowded with dignitaries. At the end of a long aisle, in front of the large windows overlooking the sea, stood High King Peter the Magnificent. A strong grasp took hold of her arm, looking up to see none other than her father smiling down upon her, though it was not a smile of genuine pride. Rather, it was forced with undertones of disappointment. _You could’ve become so much more than a man’s wife_ , his voice echoed, disconnected from his body.   
      A lump rose in her throat, heart racing, her feet moving her down the aisle against her will. The music grew louder and less uniform, as if a line of static was running through it. Millions of eyes stared at her, some of which she recognized immediately. Her mother watched with hands folded and an unreadable expression upon her face. Varying tones of disgust and romance flickered across those of her sisters. And upon Peter’s face sat a disgustingly childish grin, unrealistically wide and far too excited, as if he was hopped up on acid or had needles injected into his jaw.   
      The closer she grew to the altar, the more overwhelmed she became with dread. Desperation strangled her, knowing that if she could control her legs, she would sprint as far as she could before dropping dead in the middle of the woods. But alas, she had zero control and therefore was trapped enacting the events of this horrifying scene. Her father released her from his grip, backing away beside the rest of her family, as Peter gripped her hands in his. _Together forever_ , he whispered, leaning in as if to kiss her on the cheek. Ice ran down her spine.   
      Aslan, standing before them, roared tremendously, bearing his sharp white teeth, before speaking. _If anyone has reason to believe these two shouldn’t be married, speak now or forever hold your peace_ , he announced. The words tangled in Eilonwy’s throat but no matter how hard she tried, they couldn’t break free. Much to her relief, she didn’t need to.   
      _We object!_ a chorus of voices rang from the hallway. The double doors swung open and a congregation of strange and unusual creatures filtered through. Among them was Lord Lemuel, eyes black and hollow from his blinding experience. He stumbled forward drunkenly, seizing Eilonwy by the waist and pulling her against his pelvis. _We have unfinished business to attend to_ , he growled, digging his veiny hands into her flesh. Nobody seemed phased by his lewd behavior, not even Peter. A sudden, strong cramp then seized Eilonwy’s stomach, breaking free of Lemuel’s grasp to fall upon her hands and knees. She wanted to scream but could only manage a hoarse squeak. An invisible vise tightened around her entire abdomen as she writhed on the floor, her body busting open. Blood pooled at her hips, staining the lace of her tight dress bright red. Sweat beaded on her brow as she gripped at the fabric in sheer pain, her horror only emphasized by everyone’s cold, blank stares. Not even Peter would help her.   
      Finally, the pain subsided as she felt something slither out of her. Gasping for breath, she tossed her head back and wept only to discover a slimy creature crawling up her chest: a baby. A shriek broke free from her lips as she overheard a voice coo, _She looks just like you!_  
      _The first of many_ , another voice erupted, unmistakably King Lune’s, as he broke out in booming laughter. The infant tugged at Eilonwy’s dress and hair, eyes wide and nearly demonic. A blood curdling wail broke from it’s lips, as if someone was murdering it, as it then split in half and multipled until a hoard of children were surrounding her, pulling at every square inch of body and demanding her for nourishment and affection.   
      _Nothing is more attractive than a woman whose created life_ , Lemuel’s voice rang in her ears, his hands sliding down her chest from behind. Eilonwy wanted to swat him away but her arms were weighed down by the needy grip of infants.   
      _You’ll make an amazing mother_ , Peter’s voice then spoke as he nestled himself between her legs. Her sisters laughed uncontrollably, chanting cruel words of how Eilonwy will never make anything of herself, as King Lune’s laughter continued to shake through the parlor along with the grating music that by now had become nothing but horrific noise.   
      Then, in one fell swoop, it all paused. Aslan’s roar shook the entire castle, plagued with pain as he began to transform. His jaw separated and peeled backwards, his tongue twisting into the face of a woman who rose up from his throat like a phoenix, droplets of saliva hardening into crystals around her neck and upon her head. Eilonwy recognized the being in an instant: Jadis.  
      _How rude of you, Eilonwy, dear, to have forgotten my invitation_ , she hissed, tilting the huntress’s face upward. _If only there was some way to repay you for your ignorance_. A sly grin spread across her face as she drew her wand from behind her back, jamming the tip against the marble flooring. In an instant, everything began to decompose. Flesh rotted and fell from bodies, eyes rolling to the backs of heads and mouths hanging open wildly. Piles of bones littered the floor, soaked in puddles of blood. Faces both new and old had diminished into mere skeletons. _And as for you_ , Jadis then announced, gripping Eilonwy by the neck and raising her up above her head. _It’s a shame you won’t just die like the rest of them!_  
      With a piercing shatter, Eilonwy’s body was launched through the central window and propelled toward a black, monstrous sea. Deep down, the worst part was knowing that she would more than likely survive regardless of what beasts lurked below. She sucked in a deep breath, clenching her eyes shut tight as she broke through the surface and snapped awake in her own bed.   
      It took a few moments for her to check over herself, ensure that all of her limbs were in tact and that she had not, in fact, suffered the horrors of childbirth. Her entire body was drenched in a cold sweat, her chest aching and heart pounding. “It was just a dream…it was just a dream….a stupid, pathetic, fucking dream” she whispered to herself, half relieved and half furious. It may have just been a dream but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a constant possibility. She swung the windows open for some fresh air, leaning her arms and head out as if she was a seasick sailor. The moon shown brightly overhead, somehow calming in it’s constant presence. It seemed significantly larger this night, as if it was nearing the earth in an effort to wrap Eilonwy in it’s soothing light. She remembered many a night spent under it’s glow, curled up in the snow or sprawled upon a tree branch. She slept wherever she damn well pleased. She had no rules or obligations. Nobody expected a thing from her. She was a lone leaf riding the breeze across the Narnian landscape. Her heart ached for those days back, for the bite of winter and blissful autonomy. It had been so long since she felt that freedom. She never should’ve taken advantage of it, should have clung to it before it all slipped away. Luxuries were fine but nothing could compare to the thrill of the wild.   
      The breath of autumn flowed through the halls as summer’s leaves began to decay. It was almost as if a sense of happiness and rejuvination washed over the castle as the air cooled and the once green world turned red. For the Pevensies, they were just happy they didn’t have to return to school.   
      “Bow down for King Edmund!” the just announced, brandishing his sword in the doorway. Peter peered up from his paperwork, a chuckle breaking past his lips. In one swift movement, he leapt from his chair and drew his own sword.   
      “En garde!” he shouted back, thrusting his blade toward his brother. They parried across the grand hall all the way toward the balcony, where Eilonwy was sitting disconnected from everyone else.“You think you’re a better swordsman than the High King himself?”   
      “Oh, I _know_ I’m a better swordsman than the High King!” Edmund jested back.  Peter darted in and tapped Edmund on the shoulder, a sly smile spreading across his face. Susan and Lucy laughed from the nearby table, watching with all the spectacle and awe of the audience of an infamous sports match.   
      Edmund’s smile dropped immediately, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows as he lifted his sword above his head and swung wildly. Susan gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth, watching as the blade connected with a suit of armor on display. Pieces of silver broke apart and clattered onto the floor.  
      “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Eilonwy shrieked, storming inside to assess the damage. Dark circles lined her eyes, her complexion reduced to a sickly pallor.   
      Peter gazed back at her with wide eyes, panting, as Edmund clamored to clear up the debris. “We were just having a bit of fun, but things got kind of out of hand…” Peter replied sheepishly.   
      “But nobody got hurt, and that’s the important thing” Susan chimed in. Eilonwy grimaced, unamused.   
      “I swear, I get no fucking peace around here” she muttered to herself, stomping out of the room.   
      “What’s gotten into her?” Edmund whispered as soon as she left. Peter shook his head.   
      “I don’t know. Ever since King Lune visited, she’s been acting strange but it seems as though it’s only gotten worse since after Kronne” Peter explained. He had hoped that their comparably quiet month and a half at the castle would revive everyone’s depleting energy, and for the most part he was correct. Everyone else was bright-eyed and full of joy. Everyone except Eilonwy. “I ought to go talk to her later, see if she’s alright.”   
      “Yeah, you do that” Susan suggested, huffing as she turned her attention back to her work. Her ideas for the orphanage were coming along swimmingly, especially after meeting Peter’s approval when she proposed the idea in parliament. She loved having her own little pet project to work on, one that she could complete at her own pace and feel individual pride for. Their newfound down-time was certainly appreciated, as well.   
      As Eilonwy barrelled down the hallway, her eyes fixed themselves on the parlor doors. Images from her dream flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. This was the way it always was: a strong unease taking hold of her at every pass. It had been one hundred years since she stepped behind those doors, one hundred years since the sun hit her through those windows and her bare feet walked across the marble floors. In their increased time spent at the castle, the Pevensies had taken quite a liking to the room. It was Susan’s idea to open it up and inhabit it more frequently, and she and her sister very much enjoyed taking their tea there and admiring the sea. Peter, however, was the only one wary of the place. He knew of Eilonwy’s history, of her trauma and tragedy, and the thought of stepping foot inside such a place seemed like a disservice to the woman he so loved.   
      Secretly, however, Peter wasn’t the only one lost in deep thought about the parlor. It was no secret that Eilonwy refused to step foot in the room, but it was a mystery as to why. Edmund was the most observant of this, eyeing her suspiciously as she’d trot nervously past. He wanted answers, an explanation as to what was making her so uneasy. Perhaps then he could piece together the mystery of what was going on inside that barricaded brain and even who she really was as a person, as well.   
      Susan rose from her seat as the grandfather clock chimed 4pm, straightening her skirt and motioning for Lucy to join her for afternoon tea. “Ed, Pete, would you like to join us?” the valiant asked. The boys didn’t normally accompany them, finding tea time to be more of a lady’s task, but this didn’t stop Lucy from asking every day regardless.   
      “Thanks, Lu, but I’ve got some paperwork to do” Peter excused, tilting his head to the stacks of documents surrounding him. Lucy nodded in understanding, turning her attention to Edmund.   
      “I’ll be there in a bit, Lucy. I’ve got some things to take care of” he replied. Susan eyed him suspiciously but said nothing of it. Once they departed, Edmund strolled down the hall toward the sparring grounds. Peering around the corner, he found Eilonwy racing about with sword in hand, just as he expected her to be. She seemed to utilize the field much more frequently these days, and manage her weapons with an even greater passion. Yet another strange but fascinating aspect of this wayward woman.   
      Upon returning to his chamber, Edmund swung his window open and chimed a bell he had installed upon the sill. Within minutes, Sallowpad came swooping in obediently. “Good afternoon, your majesty! How can I be of service to you today?”   
      “Sallowpad, I need you to do me a favor” Edmund replied. Sallowpad leaned in, intrigued. “I need you to discretely up the surveillance on the sparring grounds. Let me know if Eilonwy leaves, alright?” The raven had no idea what Edmund had planned but he didn’t protest. With a nod, he glided out the window and disappeared into the trees.   
      Sucking in a deep breath, Edmund fixed his window and sped down the hall as quietly as possible. He figured that even with Sallowpad keeping watch, his time was negotiable. He would have to work quickly and efficiently to complete his task.   
      Eilonwy’s chambers were a mystery but the moment Edmund slipped inside, a wave of knowing washed over him, as if he was visiting a historic battlefield where many had lost their lives. Everything about the place appeared old and well-loved, from the tatters and frays in the blankets to the antique brush and ribbons on the dresser. Stepping into her room was like stepping back in time, temporally disorienting. Tiptoeing around the floor’s mess, he slowly tugged one of the drawers open and began inspecting inside for some kind of clue. The top two drawers proved unsuccessful, finding nothing but wrinkled clothes stained with age-old mud. The third drawer, however, piqued his interest considerably. Beneath a pile of dark dresses was a tiny leatherbound book. He admirably ran his fingers over the apple tree etched into the cover before flipping through the yellowed pages.   
      _It seems as though I’ll never escape this_ , read one page in Eilonwy’s signature messy hand. _Nobody seems to think I’ll make anything of my life. I don’t even think Papa has much faith in me. He won’t even let me in battle– real battle. Says it’s no place for a young girl like me. More like it’s no place for young girls like Helene and Amalthea. They’re far too gentle and proper to face the wages of war. They’d never survive. I, however…_  
      Another page spoke rather cruelly of a man named Rolf, whom Edmund inferred was a horrible man with horrible values. Though her handwriting was shaky and smudged here, Edmund inferred the worst of this man as a dizzying array of mental images flickered through his mind. Mental images that, unfortunately, weren’t totally unfamiliar.   
      Before he could read further, a frantic caw echoed from outside the window. Edmund struggled to hide the book, preparing to escape, but within seconds the bedroom door swung wide open and there stood Eilonwy. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed, charging forward and snatching the book from his hands. Her grip was strong as she grabbed him by the forearm and lifted him to his feet, staring him down with wild eyes. “Who do you think you are to rummage through someone’s personal property? Hmm?”   
      “I-I was just–!” Edmund stammered, terrified, but the huntress interrupted him before he could get another word out.   
      “I don’t give a fuck what you were doing! Get out! Now!” she demanded, tossing him toward the doorway. Edmund stumbled into the hall, regaining his footing, but wasn’t about to leave so easily.   
      “Listen, I’m worried about you! We all are! I was just…I was just looking to see if maybe I could find a hint as to what’s wrong” Edmund explained. Eilonwy immediately paused, taking a moment to chew over the just’s words. Maybe her troubles weren’t as discrete as she had hoped they were. No matter. That didn’t give Edmund any right to snoop.   
      Clutching the book to her chest, she slowly lifted her gaze to Edmund. There was something in her eyes that wasn’t quite right, a vulnerability peeking through the cracks in her hard exterior. “Well, Edmund” she murmured softly, “I appreciate your concern but I don’t need you looking after me. Or anyone for that matter. Now, if you’d please be so kind as to leave.”   
      Edmund bowed his head and backed away slowly, watching as Eilonwy slammed the door in his face. Though it was midday, the hallway immediately seemed entrenched in absolute darkness. With an exasperated sigh, he kicked at the floor and retreated to the parlor for tea with his sisters.   
      Eilonwy propped her window open and let the cool night air flow through the room. The stars seemed especially bright tonight and for the first time in a while, the hint of a smile touched her lips. It felt like home. Shaking hands grasped the novel on her vanity and opened to a random page as she slumped into the nearest chair. She didn’t quite care for whatever she had grabbed, nor did she care for reading much at all, but she just needed something engaging enough to distract her. She hoped whatever mundane tale was before her would either help her forget her troubles or bore her into a much needed sleep. Either way, she couldn’t lose.   
      As she forced herself through the first couple paragraphs, however, she realized there was a third possibility she hadn’t accounted for: interruption. Try as she might, when the knocks at her door failed to quit, she had no choice but to answer. Her stomach flipped when she found Peter on the other side.   
      “What do you want, Pete? I’m a little busy here” she asked rudely, waving the book in front of his face. The High King was unamused.   
      “Well, put a bookmark in it then because I need to speak with you” he replied, pushing past her into the room. A spark of offense flashed across her face as she shut the door and trudged back inside.   
      “Whatever this is about, could it not have waited til morning?” she said. Peter shook his head, seating himself on the edge of her bed. An invisible hand gave her throat a quick, strong squeeze.   
      “I suppose it could’ve, but I’d rather settle things now” he said back. “Eilonwy, I’m worried about you.”   
      “Yeah, you and everyone else in Narnia” she replied sarcastically.   
      Peter groaned, leaning forward and taking his hands in hers. “I’m being serious, Ellie. I’m genuinely concerned about you.”   
      Eilonwy snatched her hands back and rolled her eyes. “You have nothing to be concerned about, Peter. I’m perfectly fine” she lied. He didn’t believe her for a second. After a few beats of silent staring, she added, “What makes you think I’m worth so much worry anyways?”   
      “Oh, where do I begin?” Peter groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. “You haven’t been eating lately. You’ve gotten so thin. I doubt you’ve been sleeping very well, either, since you look like a raccoon with those horrible dark circles. And ever since King Lune visited, you’ve been acting different. I know there’s something wrong that you’re not telling me, Ellie, but whatever it is, I want you to be able to trust in me. Confide in me like I do you. Please, Ellie. Just tell me what the hell is going on.”   
      A sigh escaped Eilonwy’s lips as she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers into her temples. “Peter, you worry far too much. I’m perfectly fine. Just please…”  
      “No, Eilonwy, I’m not leaving until you give me an answer. A real answer” he protested, once again taking her hand in his.   
      She narrowed her eyes in his direction, frustrated with his perseverance. “Nothing is wrong, Pete! And even if it was, why is it such a big deal to you?”   
      “Because, Ellie!” he exclaimed, “I care about you! I thought you’d be happy here back at Cair Paravel with my family, returning home and spending time with us like you have, but you don’t seem very happy and that concerns me. I want to make it better. I want to make you happy.”   
      “Peter, it’s not your job to make me happy” Eilonwy replied but the High King shook his head.  
      “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. That is exactly my job. More than even ruling Narnia, my job is to make you happy” he replied. Eilonwy’s heart began racing in her chest as his grip on her hand tightened. She recognized the glimmer in his eyes, hinting at the kinds of things that were to come next. The warning lights flashing as the train barrelled down the tracks. This time, she was powerless to stop it. “I know you don’t think it’s my job to make you happy or worry about you or even look after you but it is. It is because…because I love you, Eilonwy.”   
      The moment the words fell from his lips, Eilonwy’s entire body went numb. Her head spun and her limbs felt like jelly and her tongue was entirely too big for her mouth. “Y-you…you what…?” she croaked.   
      “I love you” he repeated, a grin spreading across his face. All the tension he had built up over the past couple months, all the restraint, instantly vanished in a massive swell of relief. “Eilonwy, I’m in love with you!” he laughed, leaning closer. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, hoping to kiss her, but she broke free of his grasp and jumped to her feet before he could.  
      The entire room was spinning and her stomach was flipping in every direction imaginable. Peter watched her a moment before standing up and slowly approaching her, a tender expression upon his face. He wanted to hug her and kiss her and celebrate his confession with her. He was in love and finally admitting it felt incredible. As he swept in to wrap his arms around her, however, Eilonwy spun him around and shoved him out the door, mumbling something about it being far too late and needing to wake up early. As her bedroom door slammed in his face, the novelty quickly faded and he began to obsessively retrace the moment in hopes of remembering whether she said she loved him back. In his outrageous excitement, the whole thing passed in a happy blur but now he was second guessing himself. Unless…maybe she really was exhausted. Maybe she was just preparing to settle into bed when he barged in and interrupted her routine. Maybe she was too tired to say she loved him back.   
      From behind the locked door, Eilonwy slid onto the floor and attempted to make herself as small and insignificant as possible. Peter’s words echoed through her brain like a broken record, distorting with each replay. _I love you, Eilonwy. Eilonwy, I’m in love with you. I love you, Eilonwy. Eilonwy, I’m in love with you._ Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Peter’s face: that glimmer in his eyes and wide grin across his lips. The picture of sheer happiness. Deep down, she knew none of this was nearly all that surprising. She knew Peter had had feelings for her since the very beginning, since their hands brushed against one another’s in the light of a campfire that first night together. She could feel the electricity between them, the rising tension that took hold during their journey. She wasn’t even sure if she felt the same way. By now, she couldn’t quite comprehend how she felt. The energy between her and the king was undeniable, the way he ignited that strange and disgustingly satisfying feeling in her. Warm and tender and full of purpose. But romance was far more than just good feelings and carefree escapades. It was compromise and commitment, promises of togetherness in the form of tied hands and locked lips. Peter was still so young, so inexperienced. So naive to the harsh cruelties of the world. She already had a decent idea of his pie-in-the-sky ideas, his hopes of marriage and babies and ruling side by side. The thought of so much domestication was dizzying. Truthfully, Eilonwy still barely even felt like a human let alone prepared for the responsibility of becoming a wife, a mother, a queen. The world was spinning far too fast and her brain felt like it was about to explode from her head. In one swift motion, she fell upon her mattress, cocooning herself in her blankets, and shoved her pillow over her head. Even in sleep, she found no respite.   
      Sunlight filtered through the parlor’s spotless windows as the Pevensies embraced the space for yet another bright afternoon. Peter and Susan were enthralled in rather serious paperwork, meanwhile Edmund and Lucy found great joy in a game of chess. As Peter skimmed through and signed some legal documents, his free hand skated down to rest gently upon Eilonwy’s knee. An uneasy smile touched her lips as she forced herself to focus on the book before her. Though he knew this was no doubt difficult for her, he was incredibly proud of her bravery for finally facing her fear and stepping foot in a room full of such horrible memories. As she read, however, her ears suddenly picked up on a curious sound in the distance.   
      “Do you hear that…?” she asked softly, glancing to each of the Pevensies. They gazed back at her, bewildered. “That noise, do you hear it? It’s almost like some sort of…clanging.”   
      The royals strained their ears for the faint sound. It took a few moments but soon each of them could hear it, too. Then, suddenly, a scream. Peter’s eyes widened as he jolted from his seat and rushed to the door. The clanging increased in volume. Lucy clutched her sister’s hand, a strange sense of fear rising from within her. Edmund rose to join his brother, remaining a few feet behind for safety. Susan straightened her back, eyes locked on her brothers as she awaited their response. Peter gently pressed his ear against the door, hoping to make sense of the commotion, hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword. Screams echoed down the hallway, the ruckus growing louder and louder until…silence.   
      “Maybe it’s gone…” Lucy whispered. Eilonwy drew her knees to her chest, her heart pounding. A sickening sense of deja vu overtook her. The silence dragged on until Peter decided perhaps there was just a rat in the kitchen or something else equally mundane.   
      “I’m sure it’s nothing” Peter assured. “Let’s just all take a deep breath and relax.” Susan nodded minutely. The tension began to lift. They all returned to their activities. All was well.   
      Everything happened so quickly and yet somehow also in slow motion. Eilonwy struggled to focus her vision as her entire world crumbled around her. She was frozen in place, kneeling on the floor awestruck. The double doors burst open, shaking the entire building, as an army of misfits and delinquents poured inside. Peter’s eyes widened but he barely had time to react. A mesmerizing figure, pale and piercing, skated a hand down the High King’s abdomen and stabbed her blade into his chest. A sickening grin spread across her face as her eyes turned jet black, whispering, “Long live the king.” _Jadis._   
      Peter collapsed to the floor, blood spilling from the wound. Lucy rushed to save him but was instantly seized by the strong grip of a minotaur, quickly binding her hands behind her back and stealing her cordial from her belt. The vial shattered on the ground, red juice spilling across the marble floor and mingling with that of Peter’s blood. A lump rose into Eilonwy’s throat, her heart beating against her chest so violently she was certain she was going to have a heart attack.   
      Tears streamed down the other’s faces as Jadis’s henchman tied them up and threw them onto the floor. The witch eyed each of the royals one by one as she grew closer. With a satisfied grin, she knelt down beside Susan and stalled a moment to caress a lock of her soft chestnut hair. “What a beautiful young girl” Jadis murmured before lifting her knife and stabbing the gentle straight in the chest. Lucy shrieked, struggling to break free of her bonds, but it was no use. A yelp escaped Susan’s lips as the blood poured down her dress.   
      Eyeing the valiant, Jadis then skated toward little Lucy with hunger in her eyes. Gripping the back of the girl’s head, the witch gazed upon her admirably before slicing the littlest Pevensie’s neck. Lucy’s head fell backwards and bobbed at a disgustingly inhumane angle. Next came Edmund, whose entire body had fell into a terrifying chill at the thought of once more revisiting the woman he had such history with.   
      “Edmund, dear” Jadis cooed, gripping his chin so as to force him to look upon her. “You could’ve had so much more” she whispered, lunging her blade into the exact some spot on his stomach where she had impaled him during Beruna. The just king gasped for breath, fighting the overwhelming sensation, but Jadis had stabbed her knife deeper now than before. In a matter of minutes, he, too, had drifted.   
      From the middle of the room, Eilonwy’s body quaked with terror at all she had just witnessed. In mere moments, the entire Pevensie family had been viciously murdered before her very eyes. Her stomach churned as Jadis then turned her gaze to the huntress, grinning triumphantly. “You seem to have quite a talent for getting in the middle of these sorts of situations, don’t you, Eilonwy, dear?” she said as she approached. “Not once but twice now I have killed all those you hold dearest to you, and in the same exact room no less! Oh, the irony!”   
      A low growl tangled in Eilonwy’s throat as she clenched her fists at her side, staring up at this devil of a woman. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream and fight or curl up in the puddles of blood and completely break. “You…had no right…!” she finally said through clenched teeth.   
      “Oh, my dear, sweet, little Eilonwy, I think you misunderstand the situation. You see, this land rightfully belongs to me and therefore it is my right to exterminate any and all who try to usurp it from me. Does that make sense?” she explained condescendingly, leaning down and sliding an icy hand down the girl’s cheek. “If only you could go with them. I’m sure Narnia would love to see proof of your mortality. Such a shame we have to tell all those little white lies.”   
      An unadulterated rage began bubbling up from within Eilonwy’s chest, collecting energy from every cell inside of her body. “You had…no…right!” Eilonwy repeated, this time stronger and more passionately than before.   
      “Perhaps you’ll never truly understand” Jadis replied, half to herself. “Unless…maybe we _can_ prove your mortality, Eilonwy. What do you think? Should we try?” Without giving her a chance to reply, Jadis swiped her blade across Eilonwy’s stomach in one swift movement. The witch stood over her, satisfied, as she watched the girl gasp and tumble to the floor, the contents of her stomach spilling out before her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her eyes landed right on Peter’s lifeless face, mustering all her energy to reach out and take his dead hand in hers. The moment Jadis noticed this, however, she growled in displeasure and launched a hard kick toward Eilonwy’s disemboweled abdomen. Instantly, everything went black.  
      Peter tugged his robe tighter around his waist as he shuffled back to bed, glass of water in hand. As he passed Eilonwy’s room, however, he swore he heard the quiet sounds of struggle. His heart instantly leapt into his throat, fearing the worst, as he set his glass on a little table nearby and knocked on her door softly. “Eilonwy? Are you okay in there?” No answer. He knocked again, fear increasing, but again was met with silence. Visions of what happened with Lemuel and her near-death experience on Kronne flashed through his mind. If she was in danger, he couldn’t afford to lose her. He couldn’t risk ignoring her pain.   
      Slamming the door open, the High King found Eilonwy bawling and writhing in bed. “Eilonwy? Eilonwy!” he shouted, darting to her side. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him in the darkness.   
      “P-Peter?!” she wailed, barely comprehensible.   
      “Ellie, it’s me. I’m right here. Everything’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. Eilonwy squirmed in Peter’s grasp, her hot tears seeping thorugh his nightshirt as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. His lips grazed her ear as he whispered soft reassurances to her, trying everything in his power to calm her, but deep down she was terrified. If she had the strength, she would’ve broken free of his grasp and ran as far as her legs would carry her. Instead, she was absolutely exhausted as if she had just run a marathon on 45 minutes of sleep. Eventually, her wailing dwindled to mere whimpers as she slowly slipped out of consciousness. Peter refused to leave her side the entire night.   
      When she awoke the next morning, throat sore and eyes crusted shut, she was horrified to find Peter’s hand resting on the small of her back. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over to catch him passed out on the other side of the bed. A tinge of panic struck her, leaping to her feet and quickly reaching beneath her nightgown for security’s sake. All was well. She sighed and pressed her back against the wall, tilting her head toward the ceiling. She was treading very dangerous waters here and she wasn’t so sure she liked where things were going. When Peter awoke shortly after, Eilonwy had disappeared.   
      “Rough night?” Edmund asked at breakfast. Peter scooted into the seat beside him and rubbed the sleep from his face.   
      “I guess” he yawned. Once his vision was focused enough, he scanned the room hoping Eilonwy had joined them. He was pleased to not only find her at the other end of the table, but appearing in better spirits than she had expressed in quite a long while. She was joking and laughing with Tumnus and the Beavers, eating all of her food with great fervor. It was almost as if the previous night had never happened, and all the nasty nights beforehand, too. While the others were delighted to see her so full of life again, Peter couldn’t help but feel slightly suspicious. Nobody is cured of their ailments overnight. Or maybe she was fine all along. The past week had him seriously questioning his perception of reality.   
      “I’m glad to see Eilonwy is feeling better” Lucy smiled as she watched the girl sparring from the balcony. Susan nodded.   
      “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her this happy” she replied thoughtfully. They sipped their tea together and continued to chat about her, watching as Peter approached their friend.   
      “Nice to see you’re feeling better” he commented, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Eilonwy paused a moment, huffing a stray strand of hair from her face, and shrugged.   
      “Better than what?” she asked. “I told you before, Pete, I’m perfectly fine.”   
      “But, I mean, last night…” he stammered in confusion.   
      “What about last night?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.  
      “You can’t possibly say you don’t remember, I mean…you were so…I just…you were having a nightmare?” he said.  
      Eilonwy furrowed her brows and sheathed her sword, approaching slowly to place the back of her hand on Peter’s forehead. “Are you feeling alright, Pete?”   
      “Wait, what? Of course I’m feeling alright! I should be asking the same of you” the magnificent stammered, swatting her hand away. “You were hysterical last night, clinging to me and crying yourself to sleep. Remember? I spent the night comforting you.”   
      “Sounds like you had a rather vivid dream there, Peter” she replied, crossing her arms. “Listen, whatever you saw or whatever you think you saw, it was nothing. It was all in your head. I’m perfectly fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”   
      Peter averted his eyes and tried to recount the events of the night. She was so sure of herself, it made it hard to believe anything else was true. But if she was right and everything was just in his head, then how did he wake up in her bed? What really happened? He couldn’t comprehend it. However, this was not the time or place for deep pondering. While he hated being dishonest, he nodded slowly and agreed that she was right, that it must have all been in his head, and that he was happy to see she was feeling so well regardless. As she watched him depart, Eilonwy sighed in relief and unsheathed her sword. Crisis averted.   
      Despite the smile and pleasant disposition she exuded, Eilonwy was not better. If anything, she was getting worse. Nightmares plagued her every night, she just learned to keep quiet about them. Even during the day, strong bouts of deja vu and anxiety seized her. Her mind was constantly running, pumping out thought after terrible thought. She tried to keep herself as busy as possible, sparring every afternoon and hoarding books from the library. What others considered being productive, she considered an attempt at distraction. No matter what she did, however, nothing could calm the waves of insanity that kept knocking into the shore.  
      Even worse, her terror passing that parlor increased tenfold. A part of her considered just barging in there once and for all, finally quieting those taunting thoughts. Perhaps if she just revisited the scene of the crime, then it would confirm to her the reality of her situation. The incident happened and her family was gone. There was no changing that. The sooner she made peace with that, the sooner she could move on with her life and finally be free of this horrible pain. As much as she romanticized the idea, she knew she knew she didn’t have the strength to really do such a thing. No amount of sleep deprivation of alcohol-induced confidence could ever give her the strength to venture past those doors. Or so she thought.   
      In the comfort of her bed, she was suddenly jarred awake by a familiar voice calling to her. _Eilonwy…Eilonwy, where are you?_ it echoed down the hallway, magnetizing. In a daze, Eilonwy peeled back the covers and began drunkenly swaying out of the room and right toward those fateful doors. The closer she grew, the louder the voice became until finally, she could hear it ringing from inside the parlor. Without hesitation, Eilonwy swung the doors open and stepped inside.   
      One of the large windows creaked slightly ajar, a soft autumn breeze flowing through the crack. Everything was exactly as Eilonwy had remembered: the pastel pink walls, the white brocade chairs, the sheer curtains framing every window. Portraits of her family still hung overhead, perfectly manicured faces and stiff poses with eyes cold and hollow. She saw her father standing tall, sword in hand, pride painting his gruff face. Her mother, poised and elegant with platinum hair piled high atop her head. Her sisters, cherubic and porcelain and pure. And then she saw herself. The outcast. The black sheep. Crooked teeth and tangled hair and dirtied skirts. An ink stain on an otherwise perfect painting. She remembered the exact day that portrait was painted. It had been so long.   
      A frigid air burst into the room, engulfing Eilonwy in panic. Suddenly, a phantom seized her entire body, paralyzing her as something cold and hard pressed to her throat. She knew who it was immediately. This was it. Revenge. Eilonwy would finally pay her dues. A blade to her throat. A slice. Blood. A cold, steely breath whispers, “Long live the princess.”   
      A blood curdling shriek echoed through the castle, shrill enough to shatter windows. Peter sprinted out of his room, horror-stricken to find the parlor doors creaked open. He understood immediately. Rushing inside, he found Eilonwy’s frail form crumpled onto the marble floor convulsing. A stream of staff, councilmen, and the other royals followed Peter, watching as he skidded to a halt beside his friend and wrapped her in his arms. Her shrieks nearly deafened him, flailing her arms with wild abandon, fists knocking Peter in the chest. He begged her to look at him, to breathe, shouting that everything was alright and nothing was going to hurt her, but had a hard time keeping his word. Patches of the floor were still stained pink with blood.   
      Susan clutched her chest as she watched the scene from a distance, having never seen anyone, let alone the huntress, quite so hysterical. It felt like stepping into a horror movie, watching doctors cart a young woman in a strait jacket off to a psych ward. If they were still in London, the gentle was sure that would be the case. But this wasn’t London. This was Narnia and in Narnia, there were no mental institutions. There were no tranquilizers or laughing gas or sleeping pills. Even with Lucy’s cordial at the ready, Susan knew not even that could fix Eilonwy’s ailment. There was only one option, one person experienced enough for an illness of this magnitude. The longer Susan watched, the more she understood that he was their only choice. If they had any hope of healing Eilonwy, they would have to call on Aesop.


	10. VOL 1, EP. 9: In Loving Memory

      Susan tightened her grip on the balcony’s rail as she watched the ship dock below. Weeks had passed and the gentle was beginning to grow antsy as to when the centaurs would arrive. They were so desperately needed. Aesop stepped down from the gangplank, face characteristically stony, followed by his bright-eyed daughter with a cart of potions and herbs and pills. Nefyn gazed up to the queen and her siblings, grinning and waving especially to her dear friend Edmund, who rushed down to the dock the moment he saw her. Susan and Lucy soon followed.

      “Aesop, thank you again for coming all this way. I know how busy you often are” Susan greeted, taking the centaur’s hands in hers. “You’re really our last hope.” The old man eyed her knowingly, tilting his chin ever so slightly upward, then bowed his head in understanding.   
      “Where is the girl?” he asked, voice deep and monotonous. Susan motioned for him to follow her as she burst back into the castle. She led Aesop and his daughter up flights of stairs and down the hall to Eilonwy’s chambers. She couldn’t help but cringe as she creaked the door open.   
      The huntress was curled up in her blankets, pale and drenched in a cold sweat, eyes dark and bloodshot. A plate of half-eaten toast and a rejected orange sat on her bedside table, crumbs spotting the floor. Peter sat hunched over in a chair beside her, refusing to leave her alone for one second. Legal documents were piled high upon his desk, untouched. His siblings had divided all of his responsibilities among themselves. Narnia could wait. Eilonwy was far more important.   
      “Come on, Ellie, please. Eat something” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. She simply chewed on her lip and tightened her grip on his hand in response, staring ahead blankly as if she was hypnotized.   
      “She’s been like this ever since she stepped foot in the parlor a few weeks back. We have no idea what’s wrong. It’s like she just…shut off” Edmund explained. Lucy nodded solemnly.   
      “She had been acting strange for a while but it was never anything this bad” the valiant added. “I sure hope she’ll be alright.”  
      Aesop took their words into consideration before trotting forward to assess the girl personally. When Peter noticed he was there, he shot the centaur a defensive look as if he refused to make way. He didn’t want to budge an inch from Eilonwy’s side. Aesop, however, was a very convincing and, daresay, intimidating creature and so planting one hand on the king’s shoulder made him rethink his stubbornness. Given no other choice, he walked back to his siblings but not without great hesitation, peering back over his shoulder every few steps. Nefyn placed a comforting hand on his forearm, gently guiding him out the door along with the others as she apologetically explained that her father worked best in isolation.   
      “Peter, you look like a ghost. You need sleep” Susan demanded, fixing his tangled hair. Peter swatted her hand away and began to pace the hallway.  
      “I’m fine, Su. Don’t worry about me. It’s Eilonwy you need to be praying for” he muttered. He hated the thought of being away from her like this. He could just picture her writhing and complaining as Aesop tried to take care of her. No one knew how to look after her like he did, and he didn’t want anyone else assuming such a position even if they were more learned than he was. The following hours passed slowly, each chime of the clock increasing Peter’s impatience.  
      Just as the sun began to set, the doors finally creaked open and Aesop slowly emerged. Peter rushed forward. “How is she? What’s wrong with her? What did you do to her?” he begged. The centaur simply raised a hand to silence him before speaking himself.   
      “It seems as though your friend is suffering from a very severe case of hysteria. Trauma-based, I’m certain. This is perhaps the worst case of such an ailment I have yet seen, which is truly a statement. It will take a great amount of work to heal her but I assure you, it can be done. It will just be a very long and arduous process and in such a short span of time, a full recovery is nearly impossible” the centaur explained.   
      Peter’s heart fell, the word _impossible_ ringing in his ears. He glanced to Eilonwy lying in bed, staring ahead curled up in almost the same position as before. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve mistaken her for a corpse. Staring back at her, something slowly began to unravel. “Aesop, please, I beg of you. Please do anything you can to help her, to make her well again. I can’t stand to see her like this” he pleaded, gripping the centaur’s arm. Aesop looked down at the young king’s hand in displeasure before peeling back Peter’s fingers and tucking his arm in so that he could not grab hold of him again.   
      “I will do my best, your highness, but patience is key. It seems to be a virtue in rather short supply around here” Aesop remarked. Susan pursed her lips, mind flickering back to all the desperate messages she had sent Aesop every week begging for his help. She tried not to feel too offended, however. She had every right to feel impatient. Eilonwy’s dilemma had grown rather difficult on everyone, between Peter’s neglect of his duties and his high demands for Eilonwy’s treatment. His siblings’ patience was wearing thin whether they showed it or not. As expected, the minute Aesop was finished speaking, Peter darted right back to Eilonwy’s side again, rubbing her back and dabbing her forehead with a cold washcloth. Despite all the stress he had put them through, as the royals watched their brother tend to his girl, they really began to understand the extent of his affection for her. He wasn’t just infatuated with her, he was committed to her. In sickness and in health he was hers and hers alone. He wanted none other than Eilonwy and was willing to do whatever it took to care for her, even if that meant neglecting the duties bestowed upon him by the great Aslan himself.  
      As night swept across Narnia, the bad dreams took hold once again. Eilonwy’s breath hitched, tossing and turning as fearful visions paraded through her head. Peter snapped awake the moment he heard so much as a whimper, climbing onto the edge of her bed to try and soothe her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, brimming with tears, hands trembling wildly. “It’s okay, Ellie, everything’s alright. It was just a bad dream” he whispered, petting her hair. She shook her head and burst into tears.  
      “It never ends…” she whined, burying her face beneath a mountain of pillows. “I want to go home!”  
      “Ellie, shh, you are home” Peter replied but the huntress shook her head in great protest.   
      “This isn’t home, this is hell!” she screamed. With a sudden jolt, she sat upright and began throwing pillows left and right.   
      “Eilonwy, stop! Please!” Peter begged but she refused. She launched pillow after pillow into the wall, toward the window, knocking things off her vanity and even cracking it’s glass. She kept going until the entire room was drenched in a blizzard of feathers. It wasn’t until the window creaked open and a soft breeze blew through that Eilonwy finally began to calm down. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the mattress and wept softly, tears staining her cheeks. Peter swatted at the downy rain, climbing into her bed and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She sighed and fell into him, far too tired to fight him off, and deeply inhaled the sweet smell of his skin.   
      “It’s alright now…everything’s alright” he whispered, gently rocking her back and forth like an infant.   
      “It never ends…” she repeated softly, her hot breath grazing Peter’s collarbone. Not knowing what else to say, he sat there in silence continuing to rock her and hug her tight in hopes that perhaps he could glue all of her broken pieces back together. As she slowly drifted back to sleep, however, a quiet murmur caught his attention and sent his heart soaring. In the softest tone imaginable, she breathed a quiet “I love you…” And finally, Peter received the confirmation he had been searching for. She officially loved him back just like he knew she did.   
      In the following days, Aesop and Nefyn worked tirelessly to create an all-powerful medicine for Eilonwy, which proved to be a rather difficult challenge. Herbs that combated insomnia and restlessness countered those that fought anorexia and bad dreams. Nothing seemed to be strong enough to fix her tremors.   
      “I feel like a science experiment” Eilonwy croaked one day, staring at the brightly colored bottles on her nightstand. Her hands trembled in her lap, a bucket for vomit seated at her bedside. Whatever was in the last potion they gave her was making it difficult to keep anything down.   
      “I know, Ellie, but Aesop and Nefyn are only trying to help” Peter cooed, ringing out excess water into a wash basin and dabbing the damp cloth to her face.   
      “I wish everyone would stop trying to make me better” she mumbled. “I don’t need to be saved.”  
      “Eilonwy, you’ve been lying in bed refusing to eat or sleep for a month. You need saving” Peter replied definitively. Eilonwy glared up at him a moment before slowly dragging her arm out from beneath her pillow and bluntly knocking one of the bottles over the edge of the nightstand. The glass shattered to the floor, spilling a sharp smelling medicine everywhere. The High King pursed his lips as he rose from his chair and silently walked to the door.   
      “Leaving so soon?” Eilonwy called after him, rolling onto her back and propping her thin arms up behind her head. Her stomach caved in beneath her rib cage, a sharp dip sliding all the way down to protruding hip bones and stick-thin legs.   
      “Someone has to clean that up” Peter replied. He slowly creaked the door open and disappeared down the hall. Eilonwy rolled her eyes as she watched him depart, then turned her gaze back to the rest of the bottles.   
      “Well, as long as there’s already a mess…” she muttered to herself before knocking the rest of the medicine to the floor. A symphony of shatters echoed down the hall as the liquid pooled across the cool marble. For a moment, it flashed deep red in her mind and her stomach flipped. Pooling like blood. Her family. She buried her face in her hands and violently kicked her blankets to the floor with a wail.   
      As Peter made his way back to the room, maid in tow, Aesop approached with stern purpose. “Your highness, I insist on an audience with you immediately” he said, motioning for the High King to follow him.   
      “Is everything alright? Have you found a cure for Eilonwy?” he asked.   
      “Not exactly, your highness” the centaur replied. “However, in order to further her recovery, I believe it is in our best interest to quarantine her, effective immediately.”   
      “Wait, what? No! You can’t…you can’t do that!” Peter argued. “You can’t leave her alone! Aslan only knows what kinds of things she’d do unsupervised. She’d probably make a noose out of her blankets and hang herself for all we know! I need to be at her side constantly. It’s bad enough I’m not there now! Aesop, please, you can’t do this!”   
      The centaur shook his head solemnly. “There is nothing more I can say. I fear the only way she will ever progress is if she is deprived of all contact with the outside world. She has far too much going on internally to deal with any external stresses. We must combat what’s troubling her in here”– here, he pointed to his chest– “before she can ever dream of going back out there” he finished, swinging his arm out toward the window. “It is for the best.”  
      Peter didn’t want to believe Aesop was right, but he had asked the centaur to do everything in his power to heal his love. Just because it wasn’t an ideal method of treatment didn’t mean it wouldn’t work. It just wouldn’t involve him.   
      “Okay. Alright, that’s fine” Peter replied quietly, nodding. “Whatever will make her better.” He glanced back to Eilonwy’s door, a tinge of pain striking him in the chest before walking away.   
      Stripped of his care-taking responsibilities, Peter quickly became aimless. He’d pace the hallway, zone out often, and poke at his food in disinterest. Even his kingly duties failed to occupy him: he’d read through his paperwork over and over but his brain refused to absorb anything on the page. Sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep, he’d sneak down to the library and scour the tall shelves for anything that might help him better understand Eilonwy’s illness and how to fix it, much to Aesop and Nefyn’s chagrin. The wise old centaur could barely hold his temper every time he caught the High King in the act. Not that Peter considered him incapable– quite the opposite, actually. It was just all Peter could do to not feel so helpless. He had no idea how he was supposed to cope.   
      Susan bit her lip as she watched her brother struggle to focus on his work. “I thought getting back to his duties would keep him occupied while he waits but I swear, it seems like he’s only getting worse” she remarked to her brother and sister. Lucy nodded solemnly.   
      “There has to be a way we can help him” she replied.   
      “How? We’ve done everything we can and nothing has seemed to help” Edmund said.   
      “I just wish I knew what on earth was even going on” Susan commented, tone weary. “I feel like we barely know Eilonwy. How on earth can we expect to understand what she’s going through if we have no idea what the problem is?” The just and valiant nodded in agreement.  
      “She’s not exactly the most open book in the library” Edmund remarked.   
      “But if _we_ don’t know, then how does Peter?” Lucy inquired. “He certainly must not know any more than we do.”   
      “I wouldn’t count on that, Lu” Edmund said. “You’ve seen the way Peter looks at her, and all the time they spend together. I’d say they’re pretty close. He cares about her a lot. I can only assume she cares about him, too, even if she’s not all that affectionate. I bet he knows things we don’t. I bet she tells him things she doesn’t say to anyone else.”   
      “You know, Ed, I think you might be onto something” Susan replied. “The only issue is that if Peter does know, then why hasn’t he told us anything? Surely he must know we’re as concerned about Eilonwy as he is.”   
      “Maybe it’s private information. Maybe she made him swear not to tell anyone anything. She probably had him do a blood pact. She seems like the kind of person who would use blood pacts” Edmund speculated.   
      “Regardless, I want to get to the bottom of this whether Eilonwy wants us to or not” Susan stated. Lucy nodded definitively.   
      “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea” Edmund remarked. While he would’ve loved to have joined in on his sisters’ enthusiasm, he remembered the huntress’s reaction the last time he pried. He was certain she would do far worse things to those who invaded her privacy while in her current state, and he would’ve much preferred to stay on her good side. However, that didn’t mean he still wasn’t concerned.  
      “Peter? Can we talk with you for a moment, please?” Lucy called into the High King’s office. Edmund shifted uneasily behind her. Peering up from his papers, the eldest sighed and nodded, motioning for them to enter.   
      “You might as well. It’s not like I’m really getting anything done right now” he said, exasperated. “What seems to be the trouble?” he asked, inviting them to sit.   
      Edmund and Lucy glanced to one another briefly before preparing themselves for their well-rehearsed explanation. “Well, Pete, we can’t help but notice that you’ve been rather troubled lately” Edmund began. “We know you’re worried about Eilonwy– and we are, too!– but we’re beginning to worry about you, as well.”  
      Peter opened his mouth to speak but before he could make a sound, Lucy stepped forward and interrupted. “Peter, we just want to make sure you’re alright. You seem to take a lot of responsibility for Eilonwy and we can tell it’s beginning to load quite a bit of stress onto you.”  
      The magnificent cocked a brow and chuckled softly. “You two worry far too much. I’m perfectly fine. I just want Eilonwy to be alright and…I guess I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s hard to do my work when I’m constantly wondering how she’s doing.”   
      “Understandable” Edmund replied with a nod. “We want her to be alright, too. We wish there was more we could do to help but…”   
      “But that’s just the thing!” Lucy interrupted. “We want to help but we don’t know how. Especially when we have no idea what’s even really going on in the first place.”   
      Here, Peter leaned back in his chair, tilting his head in interest. “What do you mean?”  
      “Well, we don’t exactly know Eilonwy very well” Edmund said. “I mean, we know her but we don’t… know her. Not like you do, at least.”  
      “She’s not very open” Lucy added. “We barely know anything about who she is or what could be bothering her so much. We would like to know, but…but we don’t want to pry!”   
      “Especially if this is about some sort of private information she doesn’t want anyone else to know. She didn’t rope you into any blood pacts or anything, did she?” Edmund added. Lucy swatted his arm at the insinuation, flashing an innocent grin back to the eldest.   
      “We just want some answers…if you’re willing to give them to us” the valiant replied.  
     All at once, Peter realized the dilemma. It made sense that his siblings wouldn’t be as empathetic as himself, for they had no idea of Eilonwy’s treacherous past and horrible memories. Nodding slowly, Peter rose from his chair and approached the door.   
      “Where are you going?” Lucy called after him, suddenly terrified that they had offended him.   
      Peter glanced back at his siblings with a saddened expression, as if he had been sorely defeated in a dangerous battle. “I think it’s time you all got your well-deserved answer” he replied quietly before disappearing from the room.   
      Edmund and Lucy glanced to each other quizzically, unsure of whether their brother intended for them to follow. Eventually, they decided it was worth the risk and chased after him. Without a word, Peter traversed the hallway with slow, purposeful steps, acting in a way that communicated he was about to tell them something very serious and very important. With that notion in mind, Edmund silently raised his index finger to his sister and barrelled back down the hallway to the gentle’s chambers.  
      “Edmund, what on earth–!” Susan exclaimed as Edmund tugged her out the door.  
      “No time to explain. You’re just going to have to trust me on this” he replied frantically. He dragged her down the hall, nearly breaking into a full sprint, until he caught up with Peter and Lucy. It was in that moment that Susan realized the significance of the situation. An overwhelming sense of fear mixed with intrigue and anxiety overcame the trio at their brother’s strange behavior, watching as he guided them to the end of the hall. He paused before the double doors of the parlor, sucking in a deep breath before bursting inside.   
      “Peter, w-what is this all about?” Susan asked, voice quiet. She had been in the parlor countless times in the past few months but this time, things were different. Perhaps it was just Peter’s quiet solemnity or the way the sunlight was shining through the windows, casting long, black shadows upon the marble floors. Whatever the case, the room felt very different, almost unfamiliar and, dare she say, haunted. As if she was entering a very presitigious museum filled with waxworks and grotesque artifacts after closing time.   
      Peter shot her a tense glare over his shoulder, demanding she be quiet, before pausing in the center of the room and clenching his fists at his side. “Right now, we are standing in the scene of an ancient murder” he stated blankly. A sudden terror seized his siblings, but that was only the beginning.   
      The tale he told in the following hour completely perplexed and horrified them. Peter stood there, still as the aftermath of a bombing, and relayed the tale of Eilonwy’s past in great detail, or at least to the best of his memory. He told them of her birth, her upbringing, of how her father desperately wanted a son. Of her extensive combat training that had for so long gone to waste due to her gender. News of her father’s murder at the hands of the White Witch, and the vision of her mother and sisters slumped onto that very floor leaking every ounce of blood in their bodies. He pointed out the stains they had yet to notice. He pulled back the tarps covering the yellowed portraits on the walls, revealing the strong King Lorr in his formal robes and the poised Queen Primrose with glassy eyes and flawless features. To the heir, Helene, the devoted Amalthea, the sensual Elara and the romantic Andrastea. To Eilonwy, coarse and crude compared to her mother and sisters. As they stared upon her painting, they all recognized that there was something very different about her, but they couldn’t quite discern what. It wasn’t that she appeared happier for it was gravely evident she was not. She didn’t seem cleaner as even in portrait, her hems were still tattered and dirty. Perhaps it was almost a youthful quality, as if she was livelier back then. They quickly discovered how true their suspicions were as Peter then spoke of her curse, of Jadis’s temptation and the silver apples that granted immortal life. Lucy’s eyes welled with tears and she swore she could literally feel her heart break slowly inside of her chest. To think that their dear friend was hiding so much pain all this time. The little queen wanted nothing more than to just burst into Eilonwy’s room and give her a massive, much-deserved hug.   
      As Susan absorbed Peter’s intense tale, a sickening remorse quickly enveloped her entire body. It was no secret that Eilonwy was never really her favorite person in the world: she was everything Susan was not save for outspoken. Knowing what she knew now, however, her mind flashed back to their argument aboard the Splendor Hyaline, to Eilonwy’s cruel words and harsh criticism. Her past didn’t excuse the actions of her present, not in the slightest, but it did lead Susan to greatly regret how cruelly she had fired back at her. _Not that you would understand, considering all you think about is yourself._ The words echoed in her ears, taunting and dizzying and cruel. Maybe Eilonwy did think about herself too much, but Susan understood now that perhaps it wasn’t that she was selfish so much as depressed. She had no room inside of her to worry about anyone but herself.   
      Edmund’s mind, on the other hand, was spinning. All the loose puzzle pieces began to connect, finding explanations to things he had been questioning for months. Now that the picture was complete, his thoughts had transitioned to accommodation. A storm of ideas flurried through his head, trying to deduce a proper way to make her feel more welcome here. Suddenly, it came to him. “Peter! I know how we can help.”   
      Dawn flooded Eilonwy’s chambers as she awoke to strange sounds echoing from outside her window. As if the sunlight wasn’t migraine-inducing itself, the odd clinking and clanging only seemed to further her bad mood. With a groan, she rolled out of bed, bundled up in blankets, and shuffled toward the window prepared to scream at whoever was causing such a disturbance. Before she could peek at the cause, however, Nefyn galloped past and quickly shut the curtains, grinning at her suspiciously.   
      “Nefyn, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the huntress asked, unamused.   
      “Just accommodating you!” she replied. “You shouldn’t have to get out of bed this early in the morning just to close the curtains. That’s what we’re here for! Now you just march right back into bed and get some more rest!” Before she could protest, Nefyn spun Eilonwy around and guided her across the room, tucking her in so tightly that she could barely move.   
      “Nefyn, this is hardly necessary” Eilonwy complained through clenched teeth, struggling to loosen herself from her duvet cocoon.   
      “Oh, nonsense!” the centaurette replied, waving her hand dismissively. “We’re here to take care of you– that’s our job!”   
      “Yeah, seems to be a lot of people’s jobs these days” Eilonwy muttered under her breath. Nefyn cocked her head to the side, missing the huntress’s statement, but before she could ask for clarification, Aesop burst through the doors with his cart of potions and herbs. “Come to load me up with more drugs, have you?”   
      Aesop stared at her, unamused. “These are not drugs. They are medicines.”   
      “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to”   
      “I’d say she’s feeling better, father” Nefyn commented, leaning up to kiss her dad on the cheek. “She’s been yelling at us all morning.” Aesop raised his brows, looking to Hattie in the corner of the room for confirmation. The little faun maid had become rather good friends with Nefyn in the previous days, spending much of their time together as they chaperoned their patient.   
      “Oy, medicine man!” Eilonwy called. “You wouldn’t happen to have something to combat migraines, would you? Because all that racket outside is giving me a mighty strong one.” Aesop’s eyes remained on his work, refusing to answer. “If only there was a way to hook up all those meds so that you could just constantly siphon them into my bloodstream. Just non-stop medication. Damn, I bet that’d feel grand!” The huntress continued spewing sarcastic comments left and right until Aesop couldn’t take it anymore. With a huff of frustration, he uncorked a glass bottle, smoke billowing from it’s opening, and poured the sapphire liquid into a small chalice before presenting it to her. Eilonwy spun the drink around in her hand, watching the medicine glimmer in the sunlight, and sniffed at it’s tangy aroma before announcing “Bottoms up!” and chugging the entire thing. She instantly began to grow woozy, the room spinning and the sunlight growing brighter. Her stomach flipped and she was almost positive she was going to be sick. “What kind of fucked up joyride is this?” she complained, leaning over the edge of her bed.   
      “Silence is golden but muzzles are silver” the centaur simply said, reorganizing his ingredients. “Your responses to previous medicines were less than spectacular, so today we tried a more potent measure: Wilhelmina Blue and port’s tongue.” He then motioned to a pile of chopped plants upon his cart: the delicate stems and toxic petals of the Wilhelmina Blue plant, native to Telmar, and the hearty stalks of the port’s tongue, similar to the cattails found on riverbanks.   
      “The toxicity of the Wilhelmina Blue is said to help purge patients of the negative energy feeding their hysteria” Nefyn explained, distantly admiring the remnants of the plant.   
      “Well, it’s definitely doing a good job purging if that was your goal!” Eilonwy exclaimed, heaving at her bedside.   
      “The nausea should wear off soon” Aesop replied as he departed. “Until then, Nefyn has some peppermint tablets in her saddle bags you are certainly welcome to use.” At their mention, Nefyn dug into her bag and pulled out a handle of chalky little candies that reeked like Christmas. Without a second thought, Eilonwy snatched the whole pile and swallowed them down.   
      In the following days, Peter did his best to return to work. He made sure to pay special attention to his paperwork, he tried his best to remained focused, and when he couldn’t handle it any longer, he’d turn his attention to him and his sibling’s secret project. Things were moving along swimmingly so long as Eilonwy had no idea. He’d check in with Nefyn daily to ensure his dear friend had no clue of what they were planning, which was difficult but Nefyn and Hattie had made a promise they fully intended to keep. Eilonwy was disagreeable and rude but they cared for her deeply and prayed every night for a speedy recovery. And their prayers must have worked for, just as the Pevensie’s project was nearing completion, Aesop lifted the huntress’s quarantine.   
      “You may visit her whenever you like now” the centaur announced at breakfast one morning. Peter’s heart leapt into his throat, nearly jumping from his seat to visit her for the first time in weeks.   
      “I can take you to her if you’d like” Nefyn replied, a smile spreading across her lips, but Peter shook his head.   
      “No. No, I’d love to, but not yet. I need to do this right” he replied. The centaurette cocked her head to the side but before she could ask for an elaboration, Peter called for a family meeting and disappeared from the dining hall.  
      Cair Paravel was bustling with staff rushing to and fro, the High King demanding perfection. He was so enthralled in his business that even the simple chime of the clock startled him greatly. He whipped around to check the time. Noon. This was it. He glanced at his reflection for a moment, fixing his hair and straightening his tunic, before approaching Eilonwy’s chambers. Nefyn stood beside him, giving him a reassuring grin and thumbs-up as she swung the doors open and ushered him inside.   
      “What the hell took you so long? I almost thought you forgot about me” Eilonwy jested, sitting up in bed. She certainly looked better with fuller cheeks and the hint of a healthy glow. She drew her knees to her chest and smiled.   
      “Sorry, but I’ve been a little busy” he replied, hesitantly nearing. He couldn’t believe he was finally before her once again; he had missed her so much. And now she was looking better than ever. His heart exploded with joy. He carefully seated himself at the edge of her bed, his hand tucked suspiciously behind his back. Eilonwy furrowed her brows, trying to peer around him to figure out what he was hiding. When she did so, the High King revealed a small bouquet of flowers, stating softly “These are for you.”   
      “Oh, dammit, Peter. You didn’t have to do this” she replied, face blushing in embarrassment. She brought them up to her nose and sniffed lightly, delighted. They were the most pleasant thing she had smelled in weeks.   
      “I know, but I wanted to” Peter said. “There’s something else in there, as well.”  
      Eilonwy’s heart leapt into her throat, terrified of what she might find. “Peter, really, please…” she begged but he shook his head and reached into the bouquet himself. Relief swept over her when all he retrieved was a simple piece of folded parchment. He took the flowers from her as she opened the message. 

     “Peter, what…what the fuck is this?” she asked in great confusion. By now, the most obnoxious grin had spread across Peter’s lips. Setting the flowers on her nightstand, he took her hands in his and urged her to follow him. “Fine, I’ll go with you but I won’t be happy about it” she remarked, gathering her blankets and shuffling out of the room. A tinge of anxiety struck her upon leaving her chambers, and with the fear of something so unknown.   
      Peter guided her downstairs and to the grand entrance to the gardens. Before stepping outside, however, he placed his hands on her shoulders to halt her. “If we’re going to do this, we need to do this right” he said cheerfully.   
      “Whoa, wait, what? Do what?” Eilonwy asked frantically. In a matter of seconds, Peter had blindfolded her and she was thus entrenched in darkness. “Pete, I don’t like this. Tell me what’s going on this instant!” she demanded but all Peter could do was chuckle.   
      “Follow me” he whispered, taking her hands in his. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. You’re not going to fall.” Eilonwy shuffled cautiously out of the room and felt herself winding down pathways in the glittering sunlight. Scattered voices echoed through the air, the pattering of frantic footsteps and giggling of excited young girls. Finally, Peter halted her. “Are you ready?”   
     “Peter, I really wish you’d just tell me what on earth–” she began but as Peter removed her blindfold, the rest of her sentence escaped her. Standing before her was a massive congregation of people clapping and cheering around the most curious fixture she had ever laid eyes on. In the center of Cair Paravel’s gardens was a large stone fountain bubbling softly among a set of very familiar looking statues. In the center stood a couple with hands intertwined, the man gruff and proud alongside his poised and precious wife. A curtain of water cascaded from beneath their perch into an urn basin. On each point of the quatrefoil surround stood a characterized statue of a young woman: proud and refined in the north, soft and devoted in the south, dreamy in the east, and confident in the west. Eilonwy recognized them all immediately: her family, immortalized in stone.  
      Eilonwy sucked in a shaky breath, eyes brimming with tears, as she stared upon the fountain. Peter watched her with great anticipation, praying that she liked it. Truthfully, she loved it. A whimper caught in her throat as she dropped her blankets into the grass and slowly skated towards the fountain. Everyone was miraculously true to their likeness and personalities. She grazed the granite skirts of her sisters with trembling hands, admiring their frozen beauty. A pair of little arms then suddenly wrapped around her waist, interrupting her inspection.   
      “Well? Do you love it? What do you think?” Lucy gushed, grinning up at her. Susan and Edmund trailed close behind.   
      Eilonwy gazed at the four of them incredulously, croaking a hoarse “I love…” through impending tears. Peter broke through the remaining crowd, approaching with all the love and kindness in his eyes.   
      “I’m glad. We worked so hard on it for you” he replied.   
      “But…but why?” she asked.   
      “Peter told us everything, and we really wanted to find some way to help so I proposed an idea for some sort of memorial” Edmund explained. “Nobody should have to mourn in silence.”   
      “We want you to know that no matter what is troubling you, Eilonwy, you can always come to us for help!” Lucy exclaimed.   
      “We want to be there for you, but it’s hard when we don’t know what’s the matter” Susan replied softly. “And now that we do, we– well, I– wanted to apologize. For everything. I know I haven’t exactly been the greatest friend to you, Eilonwy, but…but you deserve better. I regret how cruel I have been in the past and hope we can start over fresh?”  
      “I…I would like that, Susan” Eilonwy murmured. She nearly pinched herself in hopes of proving that none of this was a dream. Nothing felt real anymore. She scanned the crowd of friendly faces all chatting and laughing, snacking on fresh fruits and nuts and cheeses and sipping sweet-smelling wine. The uproarious music of faun culture wafted through the air.   
      “I can’t believe you all did this” Eilonwy expressed later that afternoon, sitting beside Peter watching everyone laugh and dance. He smiled and shook his head, taking her hand in his.  
      “Well, we wanted to do something special to show you how much we care about you” he replied. “You really have Edmund to thank. Without him, that fountain never would’ve been a thought in our minds.” The pair turned their attention to the beautiful fixture, candles floating in the water as the sun began to set.   
      “It really is beautiful” Eilonwy stated dreamily. Peter studied every little nuance of her face, every twitch of her eye and flinch of her mouth. A sad smile touched her lips as she averted her eyes and thought of her family, what they would think if they had been there. “I’m sure my father would snort and say it was obnoxious. My mother would protest and thank you all for the kind gesture, genuinely touched. She always knew exactly what to say. Helene would be far too proud. Amalthea wouldn’t say much but you could tell she’d be grateful all the same. Andrastea would love it. Elara would complain about her proportions being off. Petty things like her breasts are too small or her waist isn’t nearly thin enough. ‘This is an inaccurate representation of my body and I demand a resculpt!’” Eilonwy spoke. She chuckled solemnly, playing with the fringe on her nightgown. _I really should’ve thought to get dressed before all of this_ , she thought to herself half-jokingly. Her mother would be so furious, attending a social function looking so indecent.   
      “I wish I could’ve met them” Peter replied, squeezing her hand in his.   
      “No, you know, it’s probably for the best that you didn’t” Eilonwy said. “We were…problematic, at best. Besides, no matter how hard we may wish, they’re never coming back.” There was a certain melancholy in her voice, the sense of giving up, that shattered Peter’s heart when he noticed it. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly as a sign of comfort. She gazed back at him with remorseful affection, a tenderness he had yet to see her truly display. “You’re far too good to me, Peter.”   
      “You deserve good” he replied. They sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes with very different expressions, before Peter rose from his seat and urged her onto the dance floor with him. Despite her protest, he dragged her with him, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close as they swung and spun to the earthy melody of a faun band. For the first time in weeks, Eilonwy laughed uncontrollably but there were hints of sadness hiding under the surface. Ghostly figments surrounded her, whispering echoed phrases in her ear. _Good job, my wee lass. We miss you so much. Come home to us, dear. We love you._ The stars shimmered high overhead, legendary constellations watching from miles away.   
      As noon fell across the country the following day, Peter rushed to the docks in hopes that he had not missed Aesop and Nefyn’s departure. Breathless, he skidded to a halt beside their ship, catching them just as they were boarding. “I just wanted to say thank you, again, for all you’ve done” he gasped. “I hope one day I can repay you.”   
      Aesop shook his head, raising a hand before the High King. “It is no trouble. Charity is priceless and we do not expect large sums for our bidding. Nor do we ask for such.”   
      Peter nodded in understanding, appreciating the centaur’s selflessness, but still felt as if they were deserving of a reward. After all, he and his siblings had grown to be rather good friends with the pair and Peter had garnered a certain appreciation for their line of work. If only they had someplace to station themselves on the rare occasion that they weren’t on mission trips. As they bid him goodbye, suddenly an idea sprouted in the High King’s head. It was wild and completely unorthodox but he had to offer it regardless.   
      “Wait! Stay!” he called after them. The father and daughter paused in their tracks, eyeing him in confusion. “Please…please stay. Live with us here, in Cair Paravel. Consider it a job offering of sorts. An opportunity to join Narnia’s council, castle accommodations included. We could really use your help and insight, sir. Honestly.”   
      Aesop paused to consider such an offer, as surprised as the stony-faced centaur can be. Nefyn, however, was overjoyed by the idea. “Oh, father, please say you’ll accept! Pretty please? Can you imagine the possibilities of this? The benefits? We’d be living like royalty!”  
      “Nefyn, dear, luxury is not synonymous with success. I appreciate your very generous offer, your majesty, but I am afraid we will have to decline” Aesop replied. “Our work is far too demanding to settle someplace such as this. Constant travel is part of our livelihood, following the trail of disease and destruction. It is not a life fit for pairing with the likes of yours.”   
      “Sir, if you please, I-I beg to differ” Peter stammered. He hadn’t quite expected to be so desperate yet here he was. “Cair Paravel is a seaside residence, meaning you’d have constant access to our prestige ports to go wherever you please. We can provide security. We can provide staff so that you will no longer have to work just the two of you. Luxury accommodations and access to everything you’d ever need. We can even designate your very own pharmacy. We can offer everything you’ll ever need, if you’d be so kind as to accept.”   
      Aesop furrowed his brows in deep thought, weighing the pros and cons of such an agreement. Nefyn clung to his forearm desperately, anticipating his answer and praying that he’d accept. To her, the idea was perfect. She hoped that her simple-minded father would appreciate the generosity of their request, the convenience such an accommodation would bring. They would never have to scrounge for ingredients or hop from home to home for sleep ever again. After a few moments of silence, Aesop bowed his head and stepped back onto the dock. “It seems as though you have made a very gracious offer that I have found rather difficult to refuse. You have a deal, your highness. Thank you for your charity.”   
      The moment the words fell from Aesop’s lips, Nefyn cheered in ecstasy, galloping about the dock and swinging Peter around happily. Peter reached out and shook the centaur’s hand vigorously, thanking him and assuring him he would not be sorry. Though the idea came to him on quite a whim, the magnificent knew now that this was the best possible agreement he could’ve ever made. Aesop was very wise and experienced, a grand ally in many ways, and Nefyn was a wonderful prodigy who Peter knew Edmund cared for very deeply. As Aesop commanded his men to unload the ship, Nefyn gushed of how she ought to go find Edmund and tell him the good news straight away. Peter watched her rush off with a smile then turned his face to the sky. Everything seemed to be progressing perfectly. As he helped Aesop and his men unload their belongings, he knew immediately that this was exactly the way things were supposed to be. Aesop and Nefyn belonged here, and so did Eilonwy. Her laugh echoed in his ears, daydreaming of the night prior on the dance floor. She had told him she loved him, she had confirmed her affections. There was nothing more he needed to hide. He turned to catch sight of her standing upon the balcony, witnessing Nefyn reveal her good news to the others, and understood in that moment what he needed to do. Everything was as it should be.


	11. VOL 1, EP. 10: Splendor Hyaline

     As the last few remnants of summer started to fade, the Pevensies itched for some way to cling to whatever was left of the season. Cooler temperatures meant panic and uncertainty, a natural order which nobody was looking forward to. There would be much to sort out once winter fell across the land, but those were problems no one truthfully wanted to think about just yet. Now was the time for rest and rehabilitation. 

     The past few months had been rather busy between entertaining guests and venturing to far-off places for one reason or another. Cair Paravel had quieted considerably in the much needed down-time. Peter returned to his work signing legal documents and ensuring the nation ran smoothly. Susan’s orphanage was progressing swimmingly with preparations to begin building come spring. Edmund’s spy corporation had blossomed into an integral component of Narnian government, and Lucy had taken it upon herself to study alongside Aesop and Nefyn so that should she ever be faced without any means of refilling her cordial, she could still help the sick and helpless. And all the while, the four of them kept great surveillance over Eilonwy as she continued to recover from her hysteria.   
      Many an afternoon was spent on teh sparring grounds practicing archery or swordsmanship. The huntress would pause momentarily to look down upon the statues of her parents and sisters, wondering if her father would still be proud. He always held that same vacant expression, as if she expected the ghost of him to respond to her in some way. She knew he never would.   
      Dawn’s light spread across the land as the council filed into parliament for their daily meet. It always seemed to be the same tiresome topics day in and day out, the same general planning and housekeeping. Susan certainly didn’t seem to mind, at least. Parliament gave her a chance to further progress on her pet project, receive quality feedback and engage in meaningful discussions. Everyone else, however, was growing rather weary with the monotony of it all.   
      As Peter droned on, Lucy’s mind began to wander. She thought of the old days in Finchley, summers before the war spent running through the neighborhood with friends and day trips to the beach or picking berries in the countryside. She longed for just one day like those lazy afternoons, for a brief respite from the usual clockwork. While she daydreamed, however, an incredible idea came to her, the kind that she couldn’t hold in when it arrived.  
      “Peter! Peter, I have a question!” she burst, leaping up and raising her hand high as if she was back in school. Susan shot her a look, displeased with the interruption, but Peter nodded and prompted her to speak. “Well,” she began, “I think it’s safe to say that everyone is growing pretty tired these days of the same old thing every day, so I have a suggestion: Why don’t we take a day off?”   
      “Lucy, we can’t do that!” Susan protesed. “There’s far too much to do, we can’t possibly afford to just run off for a day and do nothing.”   
      “Says the one who just a month ago begged for a break” Eilonwy muttered from her slouched state. Again, Susan was rather displeased.  
      “I think Lucy might actually be onto something” Edmund suddenly added. All eyes fell on him. “I mean, we haven’t really had a break– a _real_ break– since we got here. We’ve always been running around trying to help other people or entertain guests or sign peace treaties. I think at this point we’re kind of running on empty.”   
      Edmund did have a point. They had all worked so hard since their coronation. But wasn’t that what Aslan wanted? For them to work themselves to the bone with great fervor, doing his bidding to ensure Narnia remained happy and healthy and safe? Granted, that didn’t mean the Pevensies couldn’t ensure that they, too, were happy and healthy and safe, right? And mental health was certainly just as important as physical.   
      “What kind of day off were you thinking, Lu?” Peter asked. A wide grin spread across the young queen’s face.  
      “Oh, absolutely anything!” she exclaimed. “But truthfully, I would like just a simple picnic on one of the islands, like maybe Galma?”   
      “I’m sure the duke wouldn’t mind us visiting for a day…or two” Edmund replied. “After all, we did save almost the entire population.”   
      “But when do we even have the time?” the gentle protested.   
      Peter planted his palms firmly on the tabletop, a confidence spreading over him. “We’ll make time. A picnic it is!”   
      Lucy overflowed with excitement at his confirmation. She leapt from her seat and rushed to the other end of the table, where Eilonwy was sitting, and grasped her forearm tightly. “Please tell me you’ll join us, Eilonwy! Pretty please?” she begged.   
      The huntress paused for a moment in consideration. As wonderful an idea as it seemed, she had been classified as being in “delicate condition” since the incident and therefore was to be treated with utmost care. Of course, the way Lucy was now swinging her forearm wasn’t exactly considered caution but the valiant knew her limits and how far she could test them. Eilonwy bit her lip as she gazed upon the girl, uncertain. A part of her knew deep down that accompanying them was in no way a good idea: the thought of traveling long distances would no doubt induce rabid anxiety and horrible nausea, as if she still considered herself sick and didn’t want to take any chances. On the other hand, though, the fresh air and open spaces definitely sounded therapeutic. Her eyes flashed from Lucy to Peter, who anxiously awaited her answer. Another beat of silence. “Alright, fine. I’ll come along, too” she finally decided. A great cheer immediately boomed from Lucy’s lips as she jumped up and down happily. A flash of a grin touched Peter’s lips before he delved back into the duller matters of their meeting. In the back of his mind, he was gravely preoccupied.   
      Galma welcomed the Narnians with open arms, the duke greeting them at the dock with immense hospitality. He babbled on about how his island was thriving once again and how he was forever grateful to them for all their help during their last visit. Upon settling in at the manor upon the hill, the group gathered on the balcony to discuss their plans and begin their miniature vacation. The grassy dunes proved to be the perfect picnic spot, despite the wind; as the snacked and relaxed, Peter silently calculated. Eilonwy caught him glancing at her often, heightening her suspicion, but she did her best to ignore it. After all, this was a vacation and she was obligated to do nothing but relax. Trouble could wait until she was finished.  
      “I never knew Galma’s shores could be so beautiful. This is so nice, I nearly forgot about everything I _should_ be doing” Susan said dreamily, leaning back to sunbathe. Thin, billowy clouds passed overhead.   
      “It is rather nice” Eilonwy agreed, biting into a bright, plump strawberry. The juice stained her lips and trickled down her arm into her sleeve. Peter smiled, her red lips tantalizing, and instantly jumped to his feet to take her hand and pull her toward the ocean’s edge. She protested playfully, baby waves lapping at their feet as Peter tossed his boots and proceeded to incite a splash war. Soon, all three of his siblings had joined them for a battle of aquatic proportions. Their laughter echoed through the air, carried away by the briny breeze. Pure joy.  
      Eilonwy fought to catch her breath as she hiked up her soaked skirts and trudged back to their picnic blanket. The High King followed close behind, collapsing onto the sand with her.   
      “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages” the huntress sighed.  
      “I’m glad” Peter replied, turning to face her. There was that glimmer in his eyes again, the kind that made Eilonwy’s heart nearly escape from her chest. She gulped and forced a soft chuckle, brushing wet tendrils of hair from her face, before sitting up in hopes of avoiding another confession. Peter watched her carefully and propped himself up on his elbows. “Say, Ellie, why don’t we go riding someplace tonight? Just the two of us?” Panic.  
      “Sure, I suppose that would be alright” she replied after a moment of silence. The magnificent nodded once, satisfied. Little did he know, deep down, she was screaming.  
      By late afternoon, the pair had wandered deep into the less civilized parts of the island where weeping willows canopied sandy trails. Everlast trotted in time with Besnik, the horeses neighing to one another in their own secret conversation. If only their humans were as talkative. With every step, Eilonwy spiraled deeper and deeper into silent panic, terrified of where their journey would lead them. Peter never lost that sparkle in his eyes, always looking as if he was on the verge of asking her something wildly important. She didn’t want to hear it. Not now, anyways. She wasn’t yet prepared for the kinds of things she knew he wanted to say to her.  
      As they trotted along, they came to a clearing in the trees leading to a shallow cliff overlooking the sea. With nothing obstructing their view, they could clearly see the whole of the sun dipping into the vast expanse of sea. A vibrant gradient painted the sky. Eilonwy and Everlast stopped a moment, mesmerized. “Now I know why they say Galma has the best sunsets” she murmured.   
      “Who says that?” Peter asked, sidling up to her.   
      “People” Eilonwy replied.   
      “Which people?”   
      “You know, just people. People say that.”  
      “I’ve never heard anyone say that.”   
      “Well maybe that’s because you’ve only been here for six months. People say it, Peter. Or at least they used to.”   
      Peter paused a moment, sensing undercurrents of sadness in her voice. “Well,” he then said, “they aren’t wrong.”   
      A soft, almost sad smile touched Eilonwy’s lips. “It is very beautiful” she agreed.   
      “Almost as beautiful as you” Peter murmured, reaching out to grasp her hand in his. Eilonwy’s breath hitched in her throat, back shooting ramrod straight.   
      “Shut up, Peter” she protested, face turning bright red, as she broke free of his grasp. She smoothed her hair back out of her face, searching the horizon for some kind of miraculous distraction.   
      “Why should I?” the High King retorted. “I’m only being honest.”   
      “I am not even comparable to a sunset, Peter” she replied. “Not even close.”   
      “Oh really? Then what are you comparable to?”   
      Eilonwy paused a moment. She didn’t really want to reply, knowing whatever grotesque thing she suggested, he’d turn it around into something beautiful and poetic. Finally, she thought of something worthwhile. “A stag.”   
      “A stag?”   
      “Mmhmm. A stupid, worthless stag. Grotesquely symbolic, fleeting and unattainable” she explained.   
     “Or mesmerizing and worth chasing after” Peter corrected.  
      Eilonwy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Why are you so set on trying to make something beautiful out of me?” she asked.  
      “I don’t have to make anything beautiful out of you, Ellie. You already are beautiful. You just don’t seem to see it” Peter said.  
      “I know what I see, Peter, and beautiful is an inaccurate descriptor” she stated.   
      “I don’t understand why you think so” he said. “I love everything about you, whether you think it’s beautiful or not.”   
      The huntress buried her face in her hands and sighed. “Peter, why must you do this to me?”   
      “Do what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “I didn’t think I was doing anything.”   
      “Your ignorance just makes this so much worse.” Eilonwy peeked at him through her fingers, cringing at his sweet face and puppy dog eyes. He truly was completely oblivious. “Peter, I miss the old days. Why can’t we just spend one day at the baseline again? None of this ‘you’re beautiful’ and 'I love everything about you’ crap. Just me and you at the bare minimum of our friendship, understand?”   
      Peter wasn’t sure he did. He averted his eyes, thinking deeply for a moment. The desperation in her tone scared him, mixing what he thought he believed with what he feared. Had she not told him she loved him just a few weeks ago? Did she not need him by her side to comfort her and reassure her that her nightmares were all lies? He swore she did, yet if that was the case, why did she seem to be teasing his own nightmares?   
      After a few minutes of silence, Peter nodded slowly. “Alright” he ultimately agreed. He wasn’t sure why she wanted what she did, but if that was what would make her happy then he would oblige.   
      As the sky darkened overhead, the High King and his maiden dismounted their horses to enjoy the cool night air upon that cliff. Eilonwy leaned back into the soft grass, staring up at the moon and the stars. “Do you ever wish you could just sleep outside every night?” she asked.   
      “Maybe sometimes” Peter replied, laying down beside her. He bent his arms back behind his head, his hands acting as a pillow. “Do you?”  
      “All the time” she said dreamily. “There’s something so comforting about the way the moon watches over you. I used to sleep beneath it every night.”   
      “Well nobody said we can’t make a habit of camping” Peter replied with great hope.   
      “Nobody said we can’t because it’s universally understood we shouldn’t, Pete” she said, shutting down his optimism. “To think, kings and queens slumbering in the grass in the stead of big, luxurious beds! It’s absurd.”   
      Peter opened his mouth to speak but quickly lost his words. She was right. They were kings and queens and therefore were expected to adhere to a certain decorum. Fine silks and expensive china and continent-sized beds filled with a thousand goose feathers. “Not that the beds are all that bad” he muttered.   
      “No, they’re not totally terrible” she shook her head. “But they’re nothing but concrete slabs in dungeons compared to this.”   
      “This is pretty nice” he mumbled. Fear began to envelope him through her words. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing from the moon to her and back. “Say, Eilonwy…you don’t…well, you don’t think you’d ever trade Cair Paravel for all of this…do you?”   
      The huntress was clearly taken aback by such a question. Propping herself up on her elbows, she eyed him in surprise before truly considering his question. “I mean, I don’t really know” she said slowly, cautiously, skirting around her words. “I never thought I’d come back in the first place.”   
      “But you are happy there, aren’t you? With my siblings and our friends? And with me?” he asked.   
      “Sure, but just…” she began. Eilonwy could see where this was going and she wasn’t fond of the destination. Peter was asking too many questions, blocking her into corners and obsessively trying to get an affirmation from her. “If you had a choice, would you stay?” she finally asked.   
      Peter wasn’t expecting her to ask such a question. He had never really considered the what-if’s, his alternative future. Aslan simply gave him a duty and he accepted it. That duty just so happened to entail living in Cair Paravel. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. “I suppose so” he then said. Then, nodding, answered with a bit more confidence, “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”   
      Eilonwy scoffed and laid back down in the grass. “Well, it’s good to know our High King won’t be abandoning us any time soon, then.”   
      Nodding slowly, Peter repositioned himself and turned his attention back to the moon. A question burned in his throat that he was afraid he was far too nervous to ask. Instead, he swallowed back the bile and laid beside her in dead silence. Perhaps they had already said all that needed to be said.   
      “Ed? Ed, I need to talk to you!” Peter called, bursting into the just’s chambers late that night. Edmund groaned and rolled over to view his brother with sleepy eyes.   
      “Couldn’t this wait until morning, Pete?” he mumbled.   
      “No, not it can’t” the magnificent replied. Edmund forced himself upright, rubbing his eyes awake. As his vision began to focus, he watched his brother frantically light every single candle, flitting around the room like a hummingbird– wild and preoccupied.  
      “What is this all about?” he groaned.   
      Peter didn’t want to skirt around the subject. Sliding onto the edge of the bed, he stared at Edmund with huge, sleep deprived eyes and blurted, “I want to marry Eilonwy.”   
      “Whoa, wait, Pete, you _what_?” Edmund asked. Now he was certainly awake.   
      “I’m going to ask Eilonwy to marry me!” the High King repeated. Energized, he stood and began to pace the room. “I just don’t know when or how. And that’s where you come in! I need your help figuring out how to do it.”   
      “Peter, don’t you think Susan or even Lucy would be more suited for this sort of thing?”   
      “No, no, you’ll do fine. I don’t trust the girls, anyways. They can’t keep secrets. You’re my last hope.”   
      Concern washed over Edmund as he watched his brother pace the room and mutter to himself. Admitting his feelings for Eilonwy was one thing, but marriage? “Pete, don’t you think this is all a little, I don’t know…hasty?” Edmund asked.  
      “What do you mean? Of course not. Eilonwy and I have been together for months, that’s more than enough time for me to know I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”   
      “You mean you’ve _known_ her for months” Edmund corrected. “Did you two ever even decide to go steady? Or did you just admit you love her and decide she did, too?”   
      “Ed, no, I’m not insane! She told me she loves me, too.”   
      “When did that happen?” the just asked. Eilonwy didn’t exactly seem like the type to confess her love.  
      “A few weeks ago, when I was taking care of her. She told me she loved me. She needs me. I want to take care of her for the rest of my life. I love her” Peter rambled. There was a certian ingenuity painting his face, the likes of which Edmund wasn’t sure if he had ever seen in his brother before.   
      Edmund sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alright, Pete. I mean, if this is what you want, I suppose I can’t stop you, but…but maybe just think about this for a second? Just think about what you’re doing here?”  
      Peter agreed flippantly, waving his brother off as he quickly rushed out of the room. It was clear the High King hadn’t been paying very close attention. The just groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed, fearing that perhaps his brother was about to make a massive mistake.   
      The next morning, Edmund approached Nefyn tiredly as she reorganized her potions. “Morning, sleepyhead” she grinned. “Looks like someone has had a rough night. Need a boost?” she asked, raising a vial of bright yellow liquid.   
      “No, but thanks, Nefyn” Edmund replied, sliding into a nearby seat.   
      “You alright, your majesty? You seem troubled” the centaurette asked.  
      “It’s kind of a long story, I guess. I don’t know” Edmund sighed. “If you’re not busy today, would you like to go for a ride or something? I think I need the fresh air.”  
      Nefyn grinned and nodded. “I’d love to! Let me just finish helping my father with this cart and then I’ll meet you at the stables?” she proposed. Edmund agreed before departing.   
      In the few hours between their conversation and rendezvous, Edmund closed his eyes and tried to catch up on some sleep. Despite his attempts, however, his mind refused to let him rest. He couldn’t stop thinking about Peter and his plan. A part of him felt obligated to watch over his brother, ensure that he didn’t make any stupid decisions, but Edmund knew deep down that that was not his job and following him around would only piss Peter off. No, it was better to just hang back and watch from a distance, intervening only when it was absolutely necessary.   
      “Are you sure you’re up for this?” a voice called, snapping Edmund from his thoughts. He blinked awake to find Nefyn standing before him, hands on her hips and eyebrows furrowed. The young king instantly leapt to his feet and nodded vigorously.   
      “Of course! Of course I am!” he exclaimed, pasting a grin on his face as he mounted his horse. Nefyn rolled her eyes and motioned for him and Phillip to follow her.   
      “Now, about that trouble…” she began, greatly intrigued. As they rode through the village towards the woods, Edmund told his friend all about Peter’s plan and his reservations regarding his brother’s sanity. Nefyn listened intently, carefully turning over everything he said, while Phillip injected his own little comments.  
      “Everlast told me of their ride last night” the horse said. The pair looked to him curiously, awaiting elaboration. “Just before sundown, Eilonwy and King Peter arrived at the stable and took Besnik and Everlast out for a ride. When they returned late last night, Everlast told me everything that happened, of the conversation between his majesty and the little miss.”   
      “And? What did they say?” Edmund urged.   
      “Hey, wait a second, isn’t that private information?” Nefyn countered, unsure if she wanted to hear anymore. The horse stared at her unconvinced, knowing gossip was universally always craved regardless of moral obligation.  
      “Go on, Phil. Keep talking. This is important information” Edmund spoke. The steed nodded.   
      “Everlast told me that King Peter was asking all of these questions about whether the Lady Eilonwy was happy at Cair Paravel, if she’d ever want to leave and things of that nature. According to Evvie–”   
      “Wait, _Evvie_?” Edmund interrupted. He had never heard his horse speak of Eilonwy’s– or anyone, for that matter– in such a friendly manner before.   
      “Yes, Evvie. Now, please, let me continue” Phillip replied. “But anyways, according to Evvie, Eilonwy seemed very discomforted by such talk. Now, I can’t say whether Everlast’s accounts are very biased or not but still. She’s never given me reason before to believe her accounts may not be accurate.”   
      The pair rode in silence for a moment, chewing over Phillip’s words. “Now, my question is” Edmund then said, “how can you even understand Everlast? She doesn’t speak human!”  
      Phillip chuckled a rather strange, braying laugh with a shake of his head. “My dear king, you seem to misunderstand: just because I am a Talking Horse does not mean I cannot speak my own language. Everlast may be a regular old horse but she isn’t dumb. She understands the human tongue as well as I do, though she could never dream of speaking it. That is where our communication comes in: I speak with her in horse, and then anything she may want me to tell any of you, I can in your own language. Much like if a bilingual Narnian wanted to court a Calormene who spoke no English. Though I can’t possibly imagine why anyone would want to do such a thing, but you understand the point.”   
      Edmund blinked a few times as he absorbed this new information. It made heaps of sense, truthfully, and he wondered why he had never realized such a thing before. His mind now stimulated, he then turned to Nefyn and looked her up and down before asking, “Can you speak horse, too?”   
      The centaurette’s expression instantly shifted to that of offense, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. “That’s a very racist accusation, King Edmund” she replied with great sass. Edmund’s face turned bright red, stammering in hopes of stringing together something that could dig him out of this ditch he suddenly found himself in. After a few moments without success, Nefyn rolled her eyes and continued. “If you must know, centaurs have their own language that’s derived from horse but not exactly the same. Certain words and phrases are similar enough to figure out and translate but for the most part, they are two totally different languages belonging to two totally different cultures. And I would advise against asking those sorts of things in the future. Most centaurs take offense to those sorts of things, if you haven’t noticed.”   
      The just king nodded vigorously, regretting ever bringing it up. The following hour or so was spent in an an awkward, uncomfortable silence, nobody wanting to say anything for fear of stirring up dust that was still settling. The longer they sat in the quiet, however, the quicker the conversation faded until the two of them were shooting playful glances at one another and weaving through the maze of trees.  
      “Say, Nefyn?” Phillip suddenly spoke. His voice seemed to boom in the wake of so much stillness. The centaurette turned to face him. “I heard there’s a wonderful little cliff to the west of here, the kind with a great view of the Eastern Sea. What do you say we race there? Loser has to pay the other five Trees!”   
      “Five Trees?! Phillip, I think we’re being a little hasty here–” Edmund protested.  
      “Nonsense! Five Trees is nothing, your majesty” Phillip replied.   
      “Well, I do like myself a challenge” Nefyn spoke, a sly grin spreading across her lips.  
      “Wait, no, maybe we should just stop and think about this for a second?” Edmund shouted frantically.   
      “What’s wrong, Ed? You afraid to lose a tiny sum such as five Trees?” Nefyn teased. It wasn’t the thought of defeat that made the just nervous, though. Rather, it was the fact that he had scarcely gone so fast on horseback before. He trusted Phillip, of course, but races were not considered baby steps for one who considered himself a novice rider. Before he could protest further, Phillip and Nefyn dashed westward with great speed. Edmund clung to the horse’s mane tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and praying that nothing bad would happen. Nefyn looked to him with a chuckle, amused by his fear, before sprinting ahead of the pair.  
      The trio weaved through the trees and leaped over logs with incredible stamina, the cold breeze whipping at their faces and through their hair. After a few moments, a newfound enlightenment replaced Edmund’s fear as he slowly pried open his eyes. The entire wood blurred past him like chalk paintings after a rainstorm but rather than panic, he suddenly felt powerful and confident in his speed. Phillip could sense the boy’s transitioning attitude, filling him with his own sense of confidence. Huffing, he pushed himself to gallop even faster. In the heat of the moment, however, delight ovepowered alertness until Phillip caught sight of something strange slinking across the ground before him. The horse neighed and reared, kicking his front hooves in the air violently. Edmund gasped, the sudden force loosening his grip, and quickly tumbled down a steep slope of dirt.   
      Nefyn skidded to a halt the moment she heard Phillip, knowing immediately that something was wrong. Upon racing back, she found the steed pacing back and forth uneasily with Edmund nowhere in sight. _This is bad, this is bad, this is really, really bad,_ Nefyn thought to herself, scouring the surrounding area for her friend. If anything was to happen to him, she’d never forgive herself. She rightly assumed his siblings wouldn’t, either.  
      Amid her search, a faint sound reached her ears. She froze a moment, straining to understand. It took all of five seconds to realize it was Edmund. Without a moment’s hesitation, Nefyn raced toward the source, running parallel to a raging ravine. As the shouts grew louder, she realized all at once what had become of the just. Edmund flailed his arms, struggling to keep his head above water as the river carried him downstream. Though Nefyn had only been to Galma a handful of times before, she recognized this river and knew exactly where it led. In a few moments, King Edmund the Just would surely be thrown over a steep and very dangerous waterfall.   
      “E-Edmund, hang on! I’m going to get you out of there!” she shouted, circling as she tried to conjure a quick plan. She rushed back to Phillip and dug through his saddle bag hoping to find something of use, but came up empty. Dammit. As she ran back towards Edmund, however, something creaked beneath her hooves. She looked down to find a very large, dead branch, something potentially long enough for Edmund to grab onto. At least it was certainly strong enough. Despite it’s weight, she lifted it high above her head and swung it around in front of the just. Gasping for breath, he hugged his makeshift life preserver and Nefyn drew him up onto the muddy shore. “Edmund, what the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Nefyn scolded breathlessly. Phillip sped over and nuzzled the boy on his cheek, overjoyed to see he was okay. Before the king could reply, the steed stepped in to offer an explanation.  
      “It’s my fault, really” Phillip said. “I was going too fast– faster than his highness could handle– and got spooked by what I can only assume was a very horrid snake! The young king lost his grip and fell into the ravine because of me.” The horse bowed his head in disgrace, stamping his hooves lightly into the ground. Nefyn patted his muzzle in reassurance before slapping Edmund on the forearm.  
      “Hey!” he protested. “What was that for?!”   
      “You never told me you weren’t used to riding fast! If you had, I never would’ve challenged you” Nefyn fired back. Edmund ducked his head at her shouts, uneasy. He didn’t know how to say that he tried, but was never given a proper chance. He didn’t want to riddle her with guilt for proposing the idea in the first place.   
      Releasing a sigh, Nefyn motioned for Phillip to help her hoist the king onto her back. She figured it was best to give the startled steed a bit of a break for the journey back, granting him the chance to calm down. Edmund didn’t mind riding Nefyn instead, anyways. He liked the way sitting upon her strong back made him feel, supporting him in more ways than one. He liked even having permission to ride her, knowing that it must be a privilege few are ever granted. There was something about her that made him feel as if he was breaking some law, as if wrapping his arms around  her hard abdomen and feeling her muscles beneath him as she trotted was forbidden and he would surely get reprimanded if they were found in such a state. Nefyn didn’t seem to mind much, either. She enjoyed looking after the young king, and all the time they spent together in those moments. Even if Edmund had a nasty habit of getting into trouble.   
      The moment they returned to the duke’s manor, Peter lost all interest in his proposal planning. He and his siblings rushed to the front steps, shocked and horrified at the sight of their muddied and drenched brother. Nefyn clasped her hands in front of her, explaining the entire situation with downcast eyes. She was fully prepared to take the blame, regardless of Edmund and Phillip’s protest. Peter exploded in a fit of understandable rage, scolding the trio for their carelessness, before instructing Susan to take Edmund back to the bathroom and clean him up. Before Nefyn could escape, Aesop strode forward with a stony expression.  
      “I am very disappointed in you, my daughter” he said gravely. “It seems as though whenever you accompany that young king, trouble is sure to follow. I shan’t have any child of mine getting entangled with such shenanigans.”   
      “Yes, father. I understand” Nefyn replied softly. The High King and the old centaur watched as the young girl departed alongside Phillip, the father shaking his head in disappointment.   
      “I wonder when she will ever learn” Aesop muttered.  
      “Sir, I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble! I assure you, I won’t let such a thing happen ever again” Peter pleaded. Aesop simply glanced to the king over his shoulder sternly.  
      “I would hope not. If this continues, I foresee nothing but disaster ahead” was all he said before disappearing down the hall. Peter didn’t follow. Instead, he turned to view Nefyn below speaking with Phillip. To be frank, Peter didn’t know much about Nefyn other than that she was Aesop’s daughter and apprentice and that obviously Edmund was rather fond of her. He enjoyed seeing how happy she made his brother, but he couldn’t deny that he did seem to have an easier time finding trouble when she was near. He couldn’t stand to risk losing Edmund. Not again. The events of Beruna still remained fresh in his mind, taunting his nightmares whenever he feared his younger brother may be in danger.  
      Peter watched the sun sink into the sea as he leaned against the balcony’s railing. His mind wandered until a voice from behind suddenly startled him. “Everything alright?”   
      He whipped around to find Eilonwy leaning against a pillar, face painted with curiosity and concern. Peter sighed, nearing her so as to take her hands in his. Despite all the trouble swirling in his head, seeing her always brought him back to center and reminded him of all the positive things in his life. Of how confident he was of his feelings for her, of how he was certain that being with her was what he wanted. Smiling down at her, he nodded minutely before replying in a soft voice, “It will be.”


	12. VOL 1, EP. 11: The First Winter

      A brown blur scuttled through the wood, disturbing the blanket of red coating the ground. Cinnamon and nutmeg wafted from the chimneys, rotting pumpkins awaiting disposal outside front doors. Within one of the little cottages, a stout creature prodded at the fire and took a seat with a rather musty old tome. Dust particles swirled through the air as he propped it open, scanning the pages through thick glasses for wherever he left off. He hadn’t read in quite a while but figured now was as good a time as any. Besides, he needed something to occupy his mind. 

      Before he could delve very far, however, a knock at the door disrupted the quiet. With a huff, the creature rose from his seat to see who could be visiting him.  
      “Badger! Badger! Oh, I have the most dreadful feeling!” the visitor exclaimed. He didn’t even wait for an invitation inside, barrelling past his friend to pace the living room.   
      “What is it now, Mink?” Badger sighed, removing his glasses. Mink stared back at him blankly.   
      “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, sir!” he replied incredulously. Badger already knew what his friend was referencing and quite frankly, he didn’t want to talk about it. Mink didn’t exactly catch on. “The wind currents, Badger! Haven’t you felt the change in wind currents?”   
      “Mink, what is this insatiable obsession with wind currents?” Badger groaned.   
      “The temperature, sir! It’s getting colder! Haven’t you felt the temperature getting colder?” Mink rambled. “And the trees! Why, they’re all bare! Don’t you see how bare they’ve become? The leaves are just falling right off! Don’t you have any idea what this means, sir?”   
      “It means that–” Badger began but again, his little friend interrupted.   
      “That winter is coming! Winter is back again!” Wringing his hands together, Mink paced the cottage in frantic thought. “What if we don’t have enough food to survive? What if this means Jadis has returned? How long will this last? Oh, I can’t bear the thought of it!”   
      “Mink, please calm yourself. I am sure everything will be perfectly fine. The great Aslan himself is said to have destroyed the White Witch in Beruna, so we have nothing more to fear” Badger assured.   
      The little creature wanted to believe his friend but truthfully, there were far too many voices in his head telling him otherwise. “But what if she does come back? She’s a witch, she can do those things, you know! Or at least I assume she can. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility!”   
      “My dear friend, you’re about to give me a migraine” Badger muttered. Mink continued to ramble for a good fifteen minutes more about all the things that could happen until Badger had finally had enough. “Mink, you are hysterical! Please, do the entire Western Wood a favor and get some rest! Nurse your sanity and come back when you’re feeling better, if you please.” Before Mink could protest, Badger cast his friend out of his home and locked the door behind him with a relieved sigh.  
      Though Mink was gone, Badger’s night was effectively ruined. No matter how hard he tried to refocus on his book, Mink’s anxieties swirled through his head and planted some anxiety of his own. That was the one thing Badger really couldn’t stand about Mink, the way he could get everyone all riled up with his own phobic antics. What if he was right? What if the White Witch had somehow returned? Badger could scarcely remember what winter before the curse was like, if he even had any memory of it at all. How long was winter? Will they be able to harvest enough food? How would they even manage? Defeated, Badger shelved his book and toddled into bed.   
      As night swept across the land, Eilonwy shuffled toward the great hall in hopes of finding Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. She prayed they weren’t too busy, as she desperately needed to speak to at least one of them. Peering into the room, she caught sight of the he-beaver standing beside Susan and helping her sort out plans for her orphanage. Time was of the essence and they only had until spring to finalize the designs, but Susan wasn’t as well-versed in architecture as her friend and therefore very much appreciated his help. Mrs. Beaver watched over her husband’s shoulder, adding a few comments here and there. While she didn’t have as much experience in the technical aspects, she did have a great knowledge of the many species in the wood and how to accomodate each. When she caught sight of a figure in her peripheral vision, however, she snuck over to the doorway to attend to their guest.   
      “Eilonwy, dear! I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed, motioning for Eilonwy to crouch for a hug. Despite the minimal time they had spent together in the past few months, Mrs. Beaver still considered Eilonwy the daughter she never had. She was proud to watch her blossom and adjust to life in the castle, even if only from the sidelines.   
      “I’ve missed you, too, mum” the huntress replied, kissing the creature on her cheek. “I was wondering, are you terribly busy? I was hoping I could speak with you about something. It’ll only take a moment.”   
      Mrs. Beaver wrung her paws and glanced back to the others. “I’m afraid I am a little busy, dear, but that’s no trouble. If you’d like, Mr. Beaver and I are planning a little trip to the old neighborhood tomorrow to visit Badger and the others. You’re certainly welcome to join us if you’d like!” The she-beaver gazed up at the huntress with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. It was an offer Eilonwy found hard to refuse.   
      “I would love to” she replied, taking Mrs. Beaver’s paws in her hands. “I actually think that might be just what I need right now.”   
      “Splendid! I’ll come get you bright and early and we can head out!” Mrs. Beaver exclaimed. Planting a quick kiss on the girl’s cheek, she then scurried back to her duties with a newfound energy. Eilonwy lingered a moment more, her heart warmed by Mrs. Beaver’s care, before retreating back to her chambers. Though the sun had not yet fully set, she knew if she was to awake by dawn, she’d need all the sleep she could get. Plus, nobody can bother you when you’re unconscious. There was one person in particular she desperately wanted to avoid and the promise of sleep filled her with the hope that he would not disturb her.   
      Come morning, Eilonwy rose quicker than she had in ages. She carelessly threw a handful of dresses into a knapsack, then snuck down into the kitchen for a simple breakfast of stale bread and jam. She didn’t quite care what she ate so long as she got something in her stomach, and the rest she would save for later. The moment she heard footsteps nearing, she disappeared behind the back door and rushed out to the stables. Everlast whinnied happily, nibbling a the handful of oats her girl had brought her, before the Beavers approached with wide smiles upon their faces.  
      “Mornin’, Eilonwy!” Mr. Beaver greeted. “So nice of you to join us. Feels like the old days, eh, love?” he added, nudging his wife.  
      “It does, a bit!” she giggled. “Like a sweet little reunion!”   
      Eilonwy nodded. “I’ve missed you both terribly. It seems like ever since we came here, we’ve been running ourselves ragged and haven’t had a spare second to spend with each other. I’m grateful for the getaway.” The hint of a sad smile flashed upon her lips, long enough for Mrs. Beaver to notice and grow mildly concerned. Before she could question it, Eilonwy mounted her mare and urged them to start their journey.  
      There was something intrinsically refreshing about returning to the woods. The crunch of the leaves, the bite of the air, the nakedness of the trees. All that was missing was a thick blanket of snow and she would feel right at home. Inhaling deeply, Eilonwy closed her eyes and let the breeze carry her away. _I wonder what would happen if I released my inhibitions and simply floated along the air currents? Where shall I arrive?_ she thought to herself. If only things were that simple. If only things were like they once were.  
      Mrs. Beaver could sense the change in Eilonwy’s attitude the further they ventured. The tension melted from her muscles and her worries seemed to shrink. The fresh air and distance did her well, apparently. However, that didn’t stop the she-beaver from wondering. “Ellie, dear, what was it that you wanted to speak with me about last night?” she asked, voice breaking the quiet.  
      Eilonwy snapped back to reality, taking a moment to process the question. “Oh…oh! That. I, uh…I’d rather not think about it right now. Might we talk about it later, instead?” she replied. A wide, desperate grin spread across her lips. Mrs. Beaver was certain something was wrong but knew better than to pry. Instead, she gave a simple nod and that was the end of that.   
      A harsh pang of nostalgia struck the huntress the moment they stepped foot in Allies Enclave. Everything was exactly as she remembered with little makeshift houses in close quarters. So simple and plain. She nearly burst into tears at the sight of it.  
      “Beavers!” a voice then called. A door swung open and Badger stepped into the afternoon air, arms spread wide open in welcome. “So nice to see you again!”   
      “Great to be back!” Mr. Beaver chuckled, returning a hearty hug to his friend.  
      “Oh, how we’ve missed it here!” Mrs. Beaver cooed, absorbing the scene. She was relieved to see everyone had gotten on so well since they left. Damaged homes had been rebuilt and so had damaged lives. There was truly a sense of quiet rejuvenation here, the kind of warm refreshment that comes with hot chocolate after playing in the snow or reliving your childhood after you’ve grown old.   
      “Fancy seeing you here, as well, Miss Eilonwy” Badger then said, turning his attention to the girl. Her cheeks blushed momentarily as he continued. “I’ve heard a great many things about you and your involvement with the revolution.”   
      “Oh, yes! We’re very proud of her, aren’t we Beaver?” Mrs. Beaver grinned, locking her arm with that of her husband. He nodded.  
      “I would love to hear all about it, perhaps over supper?” Badger offered.  
      “We would love to!” Mrs. Beaver exclaimed. A warm smile spread across their friend’s face as he abruptly remembered his manners and invited everyone inside. It had been so long since Eilonwy last visited that the moment she stepped inside, a swell of memories flooded her to the point where she was almost dizzy. Sinking into the nearest chair, she struggled to catch her breath. A tingling sensation erupted from inside her chest and radiated across her entire body until she felt like gelatin. Only when Badger spoke to her did she snap from her trance.   
      “Wait, what was that? Sorry” she replied absently.   
      “I said, dear, why don’t you tell us of your feats in battle and thereafter?” Badger repeated, paws folded across the table. He seemed very interested in her tales of triumph and treachery, just as your grandfather takes interest in your first day of preschool.  
      “Oh…” Eilonwy replied. She sucked in a deep breath and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face before beginning her story. She relayed, to the best of her ability, her journey alongside the kings and queens to Aslan’s camp, what it was like meeting the great lion himself, her time spent training alongside her new friends, and the terror of battle.  
      Badger grinned proudly. “I’m certain I speak for the entire wood, nay the country, when I say we are so grateful for all the hard work you all have done. Sometimes it is still hard to believe that the long winter has come to an end” he said, rising from his seat. He poked at dinner on the fire, then glanced out the window sadly. “As far as we know.”   
      “Whatever do you mean, Badger?” Mrs. Beaver asked, concerned. Their friend sighed and shook his head.   
      “Oh, nothing too important. Just that…well, it’s come to my attention that winter is starting it’s annual return and…let’s just say the season is not exactly met with open arms” Badger explained.  
      Eilonwy cocked a brow and snorted. “What? You don’t mean to tell me you all think the White Witch has risen from her grave or something, do you?” Badger stared back at her with a deadpan expression. “Oh my god, you do!” the huntress exclaimed.  
      “Not so much myself, no, but others have expressed some very severe concern” he stated, shaking his head as he returned to his seat. “Mink stopped by the other night and–”   
      “Badger, please tell me you’re too smart to believe Mink of all creatures!” Eilonwy said. The little beast raised his gaze to hers in mild embarrassment. The huntress fumed. “Mink is…I just…he’s absolutely bonkers! You can’t possibly tell me you believe a word he says!”  
      “He does have a rather pesky way of spreading hysteria” Badger remarked. “And besides, he was right the last time.”   
      “That doesn’t…I mean…that just…” Eilonwy stammered but by now had grown incapable of forming sentences. Badger had a point. The last time Mink went ranting and raving about seasonal changes, four kids stumbled out of a wardrobe and took over the country. Not that this was anywhere near the same thing. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Yet Eilonwy couldn’t help but ponder…  
      Mr. Beaver could sense the distress washing over his daughter. Clearing his throat, he quickly broke the silence. “So, Ellie, why don’t you tell Badger all about your job at Cair Paravel? Hmm?”   
      “Oh, hrmm, yes! Must be a mighty fine job you have there” Badger commented, grateful for the change of subject.  
      “Yes, sir. Very fine, indeed. I suppose you could say I’m sort of an…advisor to the kings and queens” the huntress explained.  
      Badger smiled dreamily. “Splendid, dear. Just splendid. And what are they like? The kings and queens, I mean. Are they really as wonderful as they say?”   
     Eilonwy bit her lip and nodded slowly. “I’d say so, yeah. I mean, I’m not sure what kinds of things are said about them but I can assume the majority is true” she replied. “Lucy is as brave as can be, and Edmund is highly intelligent. Susan cares very deeply for her country. She’s an ideal queen. Did you hear of her plans for the orphanage? I’m sure you have. They’re breaking ground come springtime.”   
      “Aye, I have” Badger replied. “They all sound like they’re doing a rather grand job. And what about the High King Peter? Is he truly as magnificent as they say?”   
      Here, Eilonwy paused a moment. Something strange and discomforting spread across her stomach, as if she was about to be sick. She shoved her hands beneath her in an effort to quiet their trembling. “Peter is…Peter is great” she finally croaked. “An incredible king, and…and a very dear friend.” The creatures could tell there was a definite shift in her mood as she spoke of the king. Her face had grown rather pale and within a matter of seconds, she hasily excused herself for a breath of fresh air.  
      The moment she was outside, she rushed to the nearby river and dunked her head beneath the surface. The frigid water pricked at her skin and invigorated her, bringing her back to center. She gasped for breath upon surfacing, letting the excess liquid cascade down her face before collapsing to the ground in defeat. Heavy clouds hung overhead, drenching everything in a dull, gray light. The smell of snow lingered in the air. _Damn it all._  
      No matter what she did, nothing would ever be the same again. She couldn’t avoid hurting someone regardless of which way she turned. _I suppose it doesn’t really matter which road I take then_ , she thought to herself. She slammed her fist into the dirt with a groan, cursing the complications these godforsaken humans had imposed upon her. She just wanted to be free. Burying her face in her hands, she sucked in a deep breath before a drop of something cold and wet fell upon her forehead. She furrowed her brows, heart racing, before slowly peeking through her fingers up at the sky. Another, and another, and then another fell upon her head until soon a steady stream was raining from the skies. Snow.   
      Sitting up, Eilonwy extended a hand so as to catch the flakes as they landed, nearly brimming with tears. Finally, she felt as if she was home. She watched them disintegrate into her palm with hysterical happiness, something within her beginning to shift. It was a gradual, haunting realization that she both welcomed and feared. She stood up, brushed the dirt off of her dress, and slowly made her way back inside.  
      “Mrs. Beaver? I think I’m ready t speak with you now” she murmured. She glanced to Mr. Beaver and Badger in the den, reliving the glory days of weekly poker nights. The she-beaver was just tending to a whistling pot of tea, pouring two cups and seating herself on the opposite side of the table.  
      “Alright, what seems to be the matter?” she asked. Eilonwy took a cautious sip as she tried to figure out how to accurately word her feelings. They were so complex and tangled, she wasn’t even sure it could be done but she would try her best all the same.  
      Sucking in a deep breath, she locked her eyes onto the grain of the wood and clutched her cup tightly. “I think…” she stammered. I can’t fucking do this. She raised her eyes to her adoptive mother, terrified. “I think I want to go home.”  
      Mrs. Beaver raised a paw to her mouth, shocked and confused. She wasn’t quite sure she understood. Her other paw reached across the table to take Eilonwy’s trembling hand, the girl’s eyes growing glassy. It was obvious she was rather distraught, though about what in particular Mrs. Beaver hadn’t the faintest idea. With great tenderness, she urged her to elaborate with the promise of gentle understanding.   
      Peter stared off into the distance, watching as the light snowfall covered the wood. He wasn’t thinking about winter, though. Rather, his mind was locked on Eilonwy. He hadn’t seen her in over 24 hours and was beginning to worry. Impatient fingers drummed against the marble rail of the balcony, praying that she was alright. He envisioned sweeping her off her feet in a monstrous embrace, kissing her hard, kneeling before her, asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. She’d shriek, overjoyed, reply with a resounding yes, leap into his arms. The beginning of their happily ever after.  
      “Susan? Can I speak with you for a moment?” he called into the great hall. His sister glanced up from her work, blueprints and legal documents scattering the table, before ushering him inside. “Susan, I need your advice.”   
      There was a particular chaos emanating from the High King’s eyes, as if his mind was on overdrive. She set down her pen and immediately pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. She assumed he wouldn’t have a fever but knew it was always worthwhile to check anyways. She assumed correctly. “What’s wrong?”   
      “I’m a little…apprehensive about something” he said slowly. Susan grimaced at his vague response.   
      “About…?” she urged with a cyclical motion of her hand.  
      Panic engulfed him. He couldn’t understand why he was so nervous but he knew he couldn’t possibly do this without help. Inhaling deeply, Peter blurted out, “I’m going to ask Eilonwy to marry me.”   
      Susan’s eyes widened in shock. “Peter, that’s…that’s…a little hasty, don’t you think?” she stammered. Her brother groaned and buried his face in his hands.  
      “That’s what everyone keeps saying” he replied, voice muffled.  
      “What do you mean ‘everyone’? Who else knows about this?” she asked.  
      “Just Ed. I told him the moment I knew, when we were in Galma” he replied.   
      Susan leaned back in her seat, a part of her offended that she was not the first to know, but knew that was the least of her concerns right now and redirected her thoughts. “Well, did you ever stop to consider maybe we’re right?” she asked. “Are you even certain she feels the same way? That this is what she wants? With all the work that running this country requires, I’m surprised you even have time for romance.”   
      “I’ll always have time for Eilonwy, Su” Peter said with utmost confidence, uncovering his face. “This is exactly what I want. And I know Eilonwy feels the same way, she told me so. So if I love her and she loves me, why wait? There’s no point in putting things off! I just have no idea how to do it. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a speech. I don’t even have a ring!”   
      Though skeptical, it was obvious to Susan how much this meant to her brother. He had fallen drastically, intensely, passionately in love with someone and wanted to commit the rest of his life to her. Even if Susan and Eilonwy didn’t always get along, she very obviously made her brother happy. Whatever differences they had, they could put them aside. Reaching across the table, Susan took Peter’s hand in hers, a soft smile touching her lips. “Alright, Pete. If this is what you want, who am I stand in your way? I’m sure I could make the time to help.”   
      A wild grin spread across Peter’s face as he leapt forward to wrap his sister in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Su. You’re a real lifesaver!” he whispered into her hair, planting a kiss on her cheek. Susan rolled her eyes.  
      “It’s no trouble at all, Pete” she replied. Before she could say more, however, the criers in the watch tower blared their trumpets to signify an arrival. Peter darted out of the room, down the stairs, and to the front gates of the castle to find Mr. and Mrs. Beaver approaching paw in paw.  
      “Good morning, Peter!” they greeted with smiles. Peter nodded his head to each of them, frantic.  
      “Have either of you seen Eilonwy? I haven’t been able to find her anywhere” he asked.  
      “Oh, yeah! She came with us to Allies Enclave. Went down to the stables to put Everlast up. She should be back in–” Mr. Beaver began but Peter sprinted out of the scene before he could finish.   
      Just as the he-beaver said, the High King found his friend in Everlast’s pen with her feet propped up, picking at a small loaf of bread from her mare’s saddlebag. “Where have you been?!” he asked a little more harshly than he intended.  
      Eilonwy immediately sat up straight, setting her snack down. “Around” she replied bluntly.   
      “Why didn’t you tell me you were joining the Beavers? I’ve been worried sick about you!” he scolded.  
      “I didn’t think I needed to! Since when are you my keeper?” she glared.   
      “I’m not, but I would like to know when you leave and where you’re going so I’m not terrified something terrible has happened to you!” said Peter.   
      “Pete, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it’s not your job to protect me. I’m a big girl. I can put my breeches on all by myself” she fired back. “Now, if you’re finished yelling at me, I have something far more important I need to speak with you about.”   
      The magnificent opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of himself. Eilonwy went on to explain the fear she saw in Badger and tha which she heard him speak of in others, of how greatly the impending winter terrified them.   
      “They’ve even gone so far as to think Jadis had risen from her grave” she scoffed. “They’ve gone absolutely mad. We need to do something about this and fast. I doubt they’ll keep their cool– or whatever’s left of it– the further the snow falls.”   
      Peter paused to let her words sink in. He hadn’t ever considered such a problem but now that it was real, it made quite a bit of sense. Of course a nation of creatures who had never experienced a natural winter would be terrified of it’s return. The High King remained silent for a few minutes, prompting Eilonwy to ask him if he was alright and what he planned to do. His mind swirled with thoughts until finally, the perfect idea sprouted in his mind. Gripping her hand tightly, he rushed back to the great hall with the huntres in tow.  
      “Marco!” he shouted the moment he stepped inside. A symphony of “Polo"s answered his call. Within minutes, his siblings had gathered in the great hall with immense curiosity. Peter situated himself at the head of the table, commanding everyone’s attention as he explained all that Eilonwy had told him. "I think it would be in our best interest to make some wellness checks. Nothing too fancy, just a handful of people to venture out and reassure everyone that we are taking as many measures as possible to show them all that winter– a true winter– can offer.”   
      “Oh, I’ll go!” Lucy exclaimed, raising her hand high over her head. As much as she loved Cair Paravel, she deeply missed the rugged forests and all the kind creatures that lived within it.   
      “Alright, Lucy. You and Tumnus can pair up and cover the Dancing Lawn. Is that alright?” he offered. The valiant nodded, turning to her dear friend standing in the doorway. Tumnus brimmed with joy at the thought of spending some much needed quality time with the little queen. He missed those quiet afternoons spent sipping tea together. She had so little free time these days, and he desperately missed her company. “Beavers” Peter continued, turning to the couple. “Would you mind covering the Western Wood? You certainly know your way around Allies Enclave better than any of us do.” The pair nodded eagerly.  
      “I’ll volunteer, too” Edmund offered.  
      “I was hoping you would, Ed” Peter replied, the hint of a smile touching his lips. “I’d like for you and Eilonwy to survey the Shuddering Wood, ensure that anyone who lives there is well taken care of.”   
      Eilonwy’s back shot ramrod straight at the mention of her name, engulfed in a mixture of relief and pure disdain. “Pete, are you sure?” she inquired. The High King nodded knowingly.  
      “I’m positive. You know this country like the back of your hand, I’m sure you’ll manage just fine” he replied. There was something about the way he spoke, the chipper tone in his voice, that raised Eilonwy’s suspicion.   
      As the meeting adjourned, Eilonwy caught sight of Peter clutch Edmund by the forearm and draw him back into the room. Yet another act to arouse her suspicion. She was certain he was up to something but what, exactly, she couldn’t be sure. Either way, if leaving Cair Paravel was part of the plan, then who was she to refuse? Especially if it meant avoiding him and potential disaster. She was desperate for an escape anyways.   
      “Pete, what the hell is this all about?” Edmund asked, glancing to his two older siblings.  
      “Ed, I need to ask a massive favor of you” Peter murmured, eyeing the doorway. The just king cocked a brow in confusion, fearing what his brother was about to ask of him. When all traces of potential eavesdroppers had disappeared, Peter looked upon the just with intense purpose. “I need you to spy on Eilonwy for me.”  
      “You want me to do _what_?” Edmund asked incredulously. “Peter, you know I love you but I’m afraid I can’t do that.”   
      “Why not? You said you’d help me.” Peter argued.  
      “Because the last time I tried spying on her, I swear, she was this close to chopping my head off!” the younger explained.  
      “Wait, when on earth was this?!“ Susan jumped in.  
      "A month or so ago, before the whole parlor incident.”  
      “Ed, why the hell were you spying on her?” Peter asked.  
      “I was worried! Obviously she wasn’t going to tell us what the hell was going on, so I had Sallowpad keep an eye on her while she trained so I could sneak into her room and try to find anything that might give me the slightest clue about what her problem was” Edmund explained. “A good job that bird did, though. I didn’t get very far before Eilonwy barged into the room and kicked me out.”  
      “Ed, you know not to snoop through other people’s private property” Susan scolded, but Peter held up a hand to halt her stirring argument. Now was not the time nor place to passionately discuss morals. The High King had more important things in mind.  
      “It’s no trouble now, Ed, because I’m going to need you to do it again but with Eilonwy herself rather than her things” Peter explained.  
      “How the devil am I supposed to do that?” Edmund countered.  
      “When you and Ellie go out for those wellness checks, just make conversation with her. Try and feel her out about her opinions on the whole marriage and proposal front” he explained. The minute he mentioned the word “marriage”, Edmund immediately planted his face on the tabletop with a groan.  
      “Ugh, Peter, why?” the just complained. “I told you, you’re being too hasty! I don’t want to do your dirty work for you. Have you even talked to her yet about any of this? If she’s not ready, she’s not ready! There’s not much you can do about it.”   
      “That’s not my concern, Ed. I know if I ask her to marry me, she’ll say yes. There’s no reason why she should decline. It’s just a matter of how and when that I’m not sure about. That’s why I need you to figure it out for me! Try and get a taste for what she would want so I know how to make this the best possible proposal I can” Peter begged. “This is really important to me, Ed. Please.”  
      Edmund sighed. “Why can’t you just go with her on this wellness thing and do it yourself?”   
      “Because” Peter said matter-of-factly. “I will be here with Susan taking advantage of everyone being gone to plan out what I can.”   
      “You agreed to this?” the just asked, turning to Susan. His sister averted her eyes.  
      “Peter was very convincing and I mean, if the feelings are mutual then who am I to stand in the way of their happiness?” she replied. Again, another face-plant and sigh from the younger king.   
      The room went silent for a few long moments as Edmund tried to sort out the tangle of thoughts in his head. Finally, he rubbed his face and replied in defeat, “Fine! Fine, I’ll do it. But only because you’re horridly convincing, Pete.”   
      Peter grinned like an innocent puppy, looking back and forth between his brother and sister with sparkling eyes. The pair were almost certain he was going to leap straight out of his skin and squeeze the just until he could no longer breathe. Instead, he simply wrapped his arms around his brother and replied, “Thank you, Ed. Thank you so, so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”   
      “I think I have a pretty a good guess” Edmund jested, rolling his eyes. “My only question now, though” he continued, “is why is Lucy the only one of us who isn’t here? Shouldn’t she be a part of this, as well?”   
      Peter and Susan glanced to each other in silent communication. Averting his eyes, the High King dug the toe of his boot into the marble flooring before responding. “I love Lucy and all but…she’s not exactly the best at keeping secrets. Believe me, I feel terrible and I wish I could include her in this but it’s far too risky. I cannot have Eilonwy find out about this under any circumstances whatsoever. I’m scared that if I told Lucy about this, too, she would spill the beans and the entire plan would be ruined. I just…I can’t risk that, Ed.”   
      Edmund nodded slowly, understanding Peter’s perspective but still not entirely fond of the exclusion. He had harbored a rather strong distaste for lying to his sister, the way her face contorted when she cried and the absolute betrayal enveloping her entire body. With that said, however, he needed to respect Peter’s wishes. After all, it wasn’t lying if Lucy didn’t ask about it.   
      By the next morning, everyone had packed their bags and prepared for the long journey ahead. Edmund trudged tiredly to the stables to retrieve Phillip, the sun’s rays just stretching across the horizon, when he spotted Eilonwy with her own mare in the pen.   
      “Good morning” Edmund yawned.  
      “Mustn’t be all that good if you’re still half asleep” she commented, mounting Everlast in one smooth motion.  
      “How are you so awake this early?” he asked, petting his own horse before climbing atop.  
      “Because she never sleeps” Phillip replied with a neighing chuckle.  
      “That’s not true, Phil. I sleep. It’s just when I sleep that’s questionable” Eilonwy said back, harsh tones mixing with joking ones. The bitter tinge in her voice instantly woke the young king. He had no idea how her attitude could be so sour this early in the morning but since it was, he knew he needed to be on guard. This was going to make his job all the more difficult.   
      Peter and Susan watched from Cair Paravel’s gate as, two by two, each of their volunteers left the safety of the castle walls.  
      “Are you sure this is going to work?” Susan asked through a forced smile. She watched her brother and somewhat-friend depart together with nervous hands and a racing heart.  
      “I’m sure everything will be fine, Su. Eilonwy may be rough around the edges but I have a hunch Ed’s job won’t be very difficult. Besides, I don’t see any reason why she should say no, anyways, so we have nothing to fear” Peter replied. He hoped he sounded convincing. It wasn’t Eilonwy’s answer he was worried about so much as her response to Edmund’s prying. Regardless, it was out of their hands now. Edmund had a job to fulfill and the High King had utmost confidence that he could succeed flawlessly.   
      Edmund and Eilonwy traveled in silence for quite some time. Though they were technically alone, they weren’t exactly all alone. The others were all going in the same direction and therefore remained within five feet of each other. The just king did not feel comfortable enough to bring up such intense topics so soon. No, he would wait until they were deeper into the woods, when everyone had branched off toward their respective destinations, and then he would begin his round of discrete questioning. If he even had the nerve. He knew he had made a promise to his brother but now that he was here, standing on the threshold of his mission, he was unsure if he could follow through. Eilonwy was so harsh and intimidating for someone so physically diminutive. Edmund knew the implications of doing wrong toward her and did not want to run the risk if he could help it. He was tiptoeing through fields of broken glass by now.  
      “I love this weather” Eilonwy said after hours of pure silence. She tossed her head back and spread her arms with a small smile upon her face, absorbing the chill of the snow as it fell upon her. It was perhaps the most approachable and enchanting Edmund had ever seen her. It was clear how much she loved the winter. The snow brought out a quality in her that softened her sharp edges, if only slightly, and accentuated a sort of radiance of attitude.  
      “If only the Narnians felt the same way” Edmund replied softly. Eilonwy laughed, hearty and full of life, with a shake of her head.  
      “You’d think they’d welcome this sort of stuff after all the time they spent stuck in it” she replied, motioning to the bare trees and light snowfall.   
      “I guess they’re scared winter means the White Witch, right?” the just asked.  
      Eilonwy nodded in exaggeration with a roll of her eyes. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? Winter is so much more than a stupid curse. Even if a curse is all they’ve ever known.”   
      “Well, that’s why Peter had us do this, right? To show them how much more winter can be?” he asked.  
      “In a way, I suppose” the huntress replied. She waited a few moments before adding scandalously, “But I think he’s just trying to get rid of us for a while. He’s been acting rather strange lately. I fear he’s got something up his sleeve.”   
      Edmund’s spine shot up straight, his legs tightening their grip on Phillip. The horse narrowed his eyes back at the boy, asking him to relax a bit unless he waned to suffocate him. The young king knew Eilonwy was smart but he hoped to Aslan she was stupid enough not to unravel Peter’s plan. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips before he replied, “Well, you know Peter. He’s always working on something!”  
      “It’s just the _what_ that’s got me paranoid” Eilonwy replied. She never took her eyes off the trail ahead as she spoke. “Peter’s got all these pie in the sky ideas that sound great in theory but may not exactly be the best thing in reality. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I just…sometimes I fear he’s not thinking clearly.”   
      “I know exactly what you mean” Edmund said with utmost ingenuity. “He’s impulsive and over-confident. He doesn’t really like to think things through, or listen to other people. I said he should ask first before he– well, nevermind…”   
      Eilonwy cocked a brow, glancing to the young king beside her. A surge of panic coursed through her veins at Edmund’s broken sentence. Ask before doing what? she thought to herself. She feared she already knew the answer.  
      A few more hours passed in silence before the pair reached their destination. All was quiet as they circled the forest, searching for anyone who might need their assistance. “This is fucking ridiculous” Eilonwy groaned, voice shuddering what few leaves were left on the trees. “Why would Peter send us to the Shuddering Wood of all places, anyways? Nobody even lives here. Does Peter not know his own country?”   
      Edmund blinked a few times, unsure of how to react. Deep down, he knew his brother knew exactly what he was doing. He sent them someplace completely pointless on purpose. He never wanted them to perform wellness checks. He wanted them to talk.  
      “Maybe he just wanted to make sure, you know, in case anyone was here kind of…living off the grid, so to speak” Edmund murmured.   
      “But that’s the thing, Ed: I know this country like the back of my hand and nobody has ever lived here. They don’t call it the Shuddering Wood for nothing” she replied. After a few beats of silence, she jumped from her mare’s back with a thud and kicked at the snow furiously. Edmund watched in terror, feeling as if he was very out of place in a very private moment. When she had finished her tantrum, she fell backwards into the snow and covered her face in her hands, groaning.  
      For a long few minutes– or perhaps it was more like an hour? It’s easy to lose track of time in the woods– nothing was said. Edmund looked around at the trees and the sky, trying to think of something, absolutely anything, to say but the words refused to come to him. Eilonwy laid in the snow for a long while before finally uncovering her face. There was a glazed look in her eyes that made Edmund, for a split second, fear she was dead, but when she spoke he knew that couldn’t be true.   
      “Edmund, do you ever look back at your short, undoubtedly dull life and miss certain parts of it?” she asked quietly.   
      The young king through a moment before responding, “I guess I miss the old days before Dad went to war…”  
      “Yeah…” she replied, more to herself than to him. “Do you ever miss your dad?”  
      Edmund nodded. “All the time.” He didn’t expect such a deep conversation to suddenly spring forth but now that it had, she was beginning to slowly stir up a vast collection of long-lost feelings. It had been so long snce he thought of his father, of the war, of home.  
      “Was your father a good man, Ed?” she asked. Again, Edmund nodded.  
      “Was yours…?” he asked hesitantly. Eilonwy sighed.  
      “The best man. He taught me everything I know. Gave me my sword, too. I named it Beowulf” she explained, patting the blade at her side. “None of that’s to say my father and I always got along, though. Sometimes we’d butt heads. In fact…I never…well, I never had a chance to apologize to him…”  
      “For what…?”   
      “My father and I, we sort of left things on bad terms the last time we saw each other. I wanted to accompany him to war but he strongly refused me. Said battles were no place for a lady or some bull like that. That was the last time I saw him before…well, you know” she replied, motioning to the snowy scene surrounding.  
      “Oh…” was all Edmund could say, voice soft and hollow. He pictured the statue in the garden, the vision of a man painted in the parlor with strong, broad shoulders and a stern gaze. He was beginning to gain a deeper understanding of the man behind the face, of those who ruled before him. But more importantly, he was beginning to gain a deeper understanding of the girl standing before his eyes.  
      “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to come back to all of this” she replied softly, fanning her arms in the snow to make an angel. “I never thought I’d miss winter so much. But now that it’s back, I don’t think I ever want it to end.”   
      “I’m sure the Narnians would have a very different opinion on that” said Edmund.  
      “Yeah, I’m sure they would” Eilonwy said with disgust. Before the young king could speak again, the huntress continued. “Makes sense. They fear returning to something that for so long held such a negative connotation for them. They never thought they’d have to deal with this ever again but now that they do, it scares them. They don’t want to be trapped in this forever.”   
      She spoke with such understanding, so soft and vulnerable, that Edmund knew there must be something deeper brewing. “But winter isn’t going to stick around forever. It’s only temporary.”   
      “I know that” she replied. “At least for them it won’t.”   
      “What do you mean?”   
      Eilonwy remained silent for a few moments, her heart pumping anxiety through her body just the same as if it was blood. When she finally spoke, she sounded like a completely different person. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all that’s ever going to happen. That this is the end of the road. That the adventures are over. That I’m going to stay fixed in one place for the rest of my life. What if all of this was a mistake? What if I never should’ve gotten involved with this whole prophecy nonsense in the first place? I never would’ve fought in a war. I never would’ve gotten my ass whipped and an 'I told you so’ about Aslan. I never would’ve returned to the Cair. I never in a million years thought I’d come back, but now I can’t help but wonder if I should’ve just kept my distance and stayed away for good. A hundred years and I still feel like I don’t belong.”   
      “Why do you say that?” Edmund inquired. “I think you belong just fine.”  
      “If you haven’t noticed, Ed, I’m not exactly made of the same material my sisters were. I’m not poised and proper. I don’t speak eloquently and I can’t make a speech to a crowd. I’m too hotheaded for alliances. I get into far too much trouble. Every dress I own is dirty and torn. I’m not cut out for castle life” she explained.  
      Edmund let her words sink into his brain for a moment. She made a good point: she was the most unorthodox princess he had ever met. Not that he had ever actually met a princess before her but of all the ones he had imagined meeting, she certainly was in a league of her own. However, he still didn’t find that a valid enough excuse. What he did find valid was her fear of returning home. It made sense to be terrified of spending the rest of your life in a place filled with such tragedy. Though his better judgment told him not to, he asked the question anyways. “Do you think you’d ever actually leave?”   
      Taken aback by the question, Eilonwy sat up and stared at the just for a moment, blinking. She hadn’t expected an inquiry so blunt and straightforward but now that it was floating over their heads like it was, she was obligated to answer.   
      “I don’t know” she spoke. “I can honestly say I don’t know. Perhaps if something drastic were to happen, something life-altering, my perception would change but for now, I can’t say what the future holds. All I’m sure of is that I can’t envision myself staying forever, but envisioning and guaranteeing are two completely different things.”   
      A hard lump situated itself in the pit of Edmund’s stomach. He knew for certain in that moment that Eilonwy and his brother both had very different expectations for the future, and that if Peter fulfilled his plan, he would surely drive his beloved straight into the ground. She didn’t want this. Or at least he assumed she didn’t. But maybe, just maybe, this proposal wasn’t a massive mistake. After all, she did say something life-altering might change her mind. She never said which way it would change. If Petr got down on one knee and pledged his love to her, then she might just decide to stay. Or she might not. It was all very risky and Edmund feared for his brother’s dignity. He tossed and turned that night after they set up camp, unable to sleep knowing that right that very moment, his brother and sister were probably picking out rings together. He remained silent nearly the entire trip back, Phillip taking charge of the conversation in his rider’s stead. He excused the boy as just being tired, which wasn’t entirely true. Eilonwy could tell, however, that this kid was seriously shaken. The sickly taste of knowing began to coat the back of her throat.   
      The nearer they came to Cair Paravel, the closer the others grew until they had all reunited and completed their journeys as one large party. Lucy rambled incessantly the entire time about all the fun her and Tumnus had had at the Dancing Lawn. The whole place was inhabited with mystical little creatures like fae and nymphs among rather mundane beasts like squirrels and rabbits. Being the extroverted young queen she is, Lucy undoubtedly made everyone feel warm and comforted in winter’s embrace. She even uttered a softspoken prayer for the dryads as they retreated into their trees for a seasonal slumber.  
      The Beavers seemed to rather enjoy their trip, as well, visiting with old friends and telling them great stories of Aslan and Beruna to ease their minds. Badger and Mr. Beaver played poker all night while Mrs. Beaver joined the other wives to help tend to the children, snuggling them to sleep and assuring those without homes of Queen Susan’s plans.   
      “I taught them all about snowball fights and ice skating. Oh! And Christmas!” Lucy rambled as they reached the castle’s gates. Her eyes sparkled with the promise of the holiday season.   
      Peter and Susan stood by excitedly, prepared to welcome their family back home. The moment her eyes landed on the High King, Eilonwy’s stomach flipped as her mind replayed her and Edmund’s conversation. There was something noticeably different about him that was severely unsettling. Whatever quality he had when she left, it seemed to only intensify.   
      “I’ll take Phillip to the stables with Everlast, if you’d like” she offered to Edmund, dismounting. The young king nodded and watched as she departed. Truthfully, he was grateful she had excused herself. He wasn’t sure how many more chances he’d have to speak with Peter in private, which made his case all the more urgent.   
      “Pete, I think we have a slight problem” Edmund murmured, watching everyone filter inside. He could already tell Peter was barely paying attention.  
      “Ed, I’m so glad you all had such a great time! We can talk later, alright? I have some business I need to take care of before dinner” he replied absentmindedly. Before his brother could protest, he ducked into the crowd and disappeared inside. Something told Edmund this wasn’t going to be easy.  
      Lucy continued to ramble about her trip throughout the entirety of dinner, mainly speaking of Christmas related things. It was as if she had completely forgotten the holiday existed until now but upon remembering, was more excited than ever. “…and while I was there, I had this brilliant idea that we should do something special when the time comes! Something huge and wonderful to celebrate our first Christmas as kings and queens!”   
      “You know, Lucy, I was thinking we were due for a something special and Christmas is the perfect excuse” Peter agreed. Susan nodded, a soft smile touching her lips.  
      “Maybe we should hold a ball? We could invite everyone– the Narnians, King Lune, the duke from Galma” she suggested.   
      “That sounds perfect! Oh, say we can do that, Peter! Pretty please?” Lucy exclaimed.  
      “I think that’s a great idea” Peter replied confidently. “Say, Ed, what do you think?”   
      The just had a pretty good idea of where things were headed and he began to fear the worst. He had gradually sunk further and further into his seat during the course of their discussion so that by the time Peter turned his attention toward him, only his eyes and the top of his head were visible from behind the table.   
      “Oh, I don’t know, Pete, I mean…we’ve been doing so much already. Don’t you think a quiet Christmas would be better? Something a bit more, you know…relaxed?” he offered.  
      “Ed, that’s pointless!” Lucy replied. “Christmas is special and deserves to be treated so! Especially this year!” Peter and Susan nodded in agreement.  
      “Well, then that settles it. A Christmas ball it is!” the High King announced. The majority of the council in attendance all clapped and cheered at this decision, seemingly delighted at the promise of a formal party. In all the commotion, Edmund glanced down the table to peek at Eilonwy’s reaction, expecting the worst. Much to his surprise, however, the hint of a smile teased at her lips as she lightly clapped along with everyone else. Perhaps I’ve underestimated the power of a positive change, Edmund thought to himself. With something uplifting to look forward to, it seemed as though the whole of Narnia had been entrenched in Christmas lights. The world seemed to shine a little brighter and everyone’s smiles grew a little bit wider. For the first time in quite a while, there was hardly any fear. Hardly.


	13. VOL 1, EP. 12: The Christmas Ball

      Lucy grinned from the windowsill as a thick blanket of snow covered the land. The fireplace in the corner crackled, radiating a cozy warmth throughout the room. There was just something so comforting about the holiday season and everything to do with it. As Christmas grew nearer, the youngest queen’s excitement multiplied. She was determined to make this Christmas the best that Narnia had ever seen, especially since for many, it was their first real Christmas. As such, she went to great lengths to ensure everything would be perfect. Massive evergreens filled the castle, decorated with garlands and candles and poinsettias galore. Wreaths hung from every door, the hallways lined with plush red carpets, and every room smelled of cinnamon. Just like Christmas in Finchley. 

     For many, however, this was a very foreign Christmas. Eilonwy’s head spun with all the strange new traditions the Pevensies implemented. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how fond she was of them. As she trudged into Parliament that morning, she was quickly overcome with the sickening hunch that this was only the beginning.   
      “I have a proposal” Susan announced, rising from her seat. A knitted shawl embraced her shoulders, a style she seemed to frequent lately as the temperatures continued to drop. Eilonwy’s eyes locked on the antique brooch fastened at her collar, an overwhelming disdain washing over her. She recognized it immediately: her mother’s amber pin. Deep down, the huntress knew she would never have made any use of it but the thought of someone else doing just that boiled her blood. She wanted to reach out and rip out straight off of her.   
      Completely oblivious to his friend’s internal monologue, Peter nodded in the queen’s direction and prompted her to speak.   
      “I’ve been looking over Narnia’s previous Christmas protocol” she began, “and I’ve decided it would be in our best interest to rework Christmas day entirely. I say we replace the annual game hunt with something a little less…dare I say, violent?”  
      Eilonwy’s jaw dropped. “Replace the game hunt? That’s absurd! What do you expect t eat for Christmas dinner then? Narnian tradition dictates that the royal family embark on Christmas morning to peg a slew of game for feast. You can’t possibly change that!” Her face turned redder the longer she spoke, fists clenched at her sides.   
      “Well then perhaps we ought to to reevaluate Christmas dinner, as well” Susan suggested. “I certainly wouldn’t mind changing the menu. Would you, Peter?”   
      The High King stood tensely at the head of the table, eyes shifting between both women. He hated seeing his sister and beloved argue, and was smart enough to know choosing sides was a dangerous game. If he disappointed Susan, the unity of the tetrarchy could crumble. If he disappointed Eilonwy, something much more elusive was at stake.  
      “Well, I mean….Susan, what did you have in mind?” he asked cautiously. A proud grin spread upon the gentle’s face.   
      “Instead of game, maybe we could hold a potluck in which every guest brings a dish native to their country or–” she began but Peter quickly interrupted.  
      “No, I mean to replace the hunt” he said.  
      “Wait, I want to hear about the food” Edmund interjected. Susan cast a soft smile to him and replied that they could discuss it later.   
      “Rather than a hunt, I say we do something special, like a gift exchange of sorts” the gentle suggested.  
      “Like a Secret Santa!” Lucy interrupted, nearly leaping out of her seat.   
      “Wait, what’s a Secret Santa?” Eilonwy asked in confusion. Never had she heard such a strange phrase before. It must’ve been an British thing– certainly it was no tradition of Narnia.   
      “It’s this gift exchange thing where people draw names at random and surprise that person with a gift on Christmas” Edmund explained.   
      Eilonwy cocked a brow, trying to comprehend the explanation, before replying, “But is that not already implied? Exchanging gifts has always been embedded into Christmas.”   
      “The Secret Santa is more of a social event than a simple tradition, Eilonwy” Susan explained. “And I think it’s a wonderful idea.”   
      “But is that not already the whole point of Christmas in the first place? I don’t think it’s entirely necessary to replace an age-old tradition with something that’s already there” Eilonwy argued. “I don’t see why we have to change everything about Christmas day. You wake up, eat breakfast, open your presents, and then you go hunting. That’s the way it’s always been and that’s the way it ought to _stay._ ”  
      “I think the Secret Santa is a great idea” Peter chimed in. Eilonwy’s eyes widened as she glared back at him incredulously.   
      “You _what_?” she exclaimed.   
      “I think a Secret Santa is a great idea. Really in the Christmas spirit, Lu” he commented. The valiant grinned triumphantly. With a groan, Eilonwy slammed her head on the table and sprawled her arms out in front of her. This is nowhere near what she had hoped for.   
      “It’s okay, Eilonwy. You don’t have to participate if you don’t want to” Lucy assured her.   
      “Oh, no, Eilonwy’s going to participate” Peter demanded, dismissing the rest of the council.  
      “Wait, what? You can’t force me to be a part of something I want no involvement in” she protested, but Peter refused to hear it. In the back of his mind, he already had the perfect plan and he wasn’t going to let Eilonwy back out so easily.  
      The small group gathered at the head of the table with quills and slips of parchment, scribbling their names and tossing them into a large, golden bowl previously occupied by hand-painted pine cones (courtesy of Susan and Lucy, of course). Professor Arcadian stirred the ballots, eyeing everyone cynically as they waited and mumbling something dryly about how “It’s nothing but a simple task of probability, not a matinee drama. Don’t look so eager.” But they were eager, Peter most of all. One by one, everyone stepped forward to draw a name.  
      “Don’t let anyone know who you received or it’ll ruin the fun!” Tumnus announced excitedly, adding for everyone to wait until the end to unfold their paper. As High King, Peter was called upon first. He sucked in a deep breath, dug his hand deep inside the bowl, and prayed that he had grabbed the right parchment. That was the one thing Peter hated about Secret Santas, and the one thing he dreaded more than anything this time around. The randomness of the pick meant that there was no guarantee in getting who you really wanted. For Peter, this was crucial.   
      Once the bowl had been emptied, Professor Arcadian allowed everyone to unfold their papers. Peter nearly ripped his in half, he worked so quickly. The moment he caught sight of the letter E, his heart leapt into his throat. Had he really gotten so lucky? Upon revealing the rest of the word, his heart proceeded to plummet straight to the pit of his stomach. Edmund. He had picked his own brother. This was not how he intended this to go.   
      As soon as the others were out of sight, the High King rushed to the doorway and pulled his brother back frantically. “Ed, I need to know whose name you pulled” he blurted, eyes wild and wide.  
      “Why…?” Edmund asked suspiciously, leaning back a bit to put some distance between he and his brother’s faces. “You know, Pete, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of Secret Santa. I don’t think the others would be too happy with if you if they found out you were cheating.”   
      “Ed” Peter sighed, rubbing his face. “I know that’s not the point but I need to know. This is important. Come on. Please.”  
      Edmund eyed his brother a moment, studying the desperation in his voice and face. Finally, he caved. “Alright, fine. I got Susan” he admitted.  
      “Dammit!” Peter exclaimed, slapping a palm to his face. “Do you know who drew Eilonwy?”   
      “No…” Edmund said slowly. “I don’t know who anyone drew. And I think that’s kind of the point. Why do you need to know?”   
      “Because I need to trade with whoever drew her. It’s all part of my plan!” Peter explained. “I draw her name for Secret Santa, I surprise her with a ring, we dance, we celebrate, we get married, we spend the rest of our lives together, and we live happily ever after, understand? But I can’t do any of that if I didn’t draw her name!”   
      The young king blinked a few times, unsure of how to respond. Deep down, he still didn’t think this was a very good idea. He had wanted to speak to Peter when he returned from the Shuddering Wood but the High King barely gave him a spare second for private conversation. He was far too preoccupied. “Alright, well in that case, who did you draw?” Edmund finally asked.  
      “You” Peter replied flippantly. He sank into the nearest seat and tossed the parchment onto the table. “It’s going to take forever to try and find Eilonwy’s name.”   
      “What would you have bought me?” Edmund interrupted.   
      “I’m going to have to cycle through everyone. I’ll never find it in time” Peter replied, almost as if he hadn’t heard the just. Then he paused a moment before turning to his brother. “Wait, what did you say?”   
      “You drew my name. So what would you have gotten me?” Edmund repeated.  
      “Ed, you know I can’t tell you that. It goes against the rules” Peter replied.  
      “And so does trading and yet here we are. Come on, Pete. I doubt you’ll still have my name by the end of this anyways so go on and tell me”   
      The magnificent furrowed his brows a moment. Frankly, he hadn’t really thought of anything yet. “Um…I don’t know. I guess I would’ve gotten you something like a…like a new sword?”   
      “Would it have been a nice sword?”   
      “Oh, god, Ed!“  
      "What? I’d like to know! You should pass that suggestion along to whoever you trade with. Let them know. I’d like a new sword. Not a replacement so much as an extra. You can never have too many swords, Pete.” As Edmund rambled about his goal of learning to wield two swords at once, or inventing a contraption consisting of multiple swords, Peter buried his face in his hands and struggled to untangle a plan. He needed to find whoever drew Eilonwy’s name if it was the last thing he did. He needed to trade so he could fulfill his plan. He needed to ask her to marry him.    
      Later that day, Peter barrelled down the hall toward the library. Just as he assumed, Susan was seated at the long central table surrounded by endless books and papers. No doubt all planning and progress reports for her orphanage.   
      “Hey, Su, I need to speak with you” Peter spoke, sliding into the seat beside her.  
      “Well make it quick or save it for later, Pete. Now’s not the best time” she replied, eyes locked on her work.  
       “Alright then. I need to know whose name you drew for Secret Santa” he said. Susan opened her mouth to speak but her brother quickly interrupted. “I know this goes against everything Secret Santa is about so please don’t lecture me. I already heard enough of that from Ed.”  
      Finally looking up from her work, the gentle grimaced and shook her head. “That’s not what I was going to say. I know you hoped to draw Eilonwy so you could use that as an excuse to propose, but since you didn’t, you’re going around asking everyone who they drew in hopes of a trade.”  
      “How did you know all that?” Peter asked, taken aback.   
      “It’s pretty simple to figure out, Pete. Besides, I overheard you and Ed this morning” she replied. The moment she mentioned overhearing them, something horrible twisted Peter’s gut. If Susan caught wind of their conversation, then anyone could’ve heard. Eilonwy included. But he couldn’t afford to fear– he was running out of time.   
      “Well, I’m on a tight schedule here so who did you get?” Peter pressed.   
      “I’m sorry to say but I drew Lucy” she said. “Have you spoken to her yet?”   
      Peter shook his head. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. I know the minute I ask, she’ll know something is up and then I’ll have to explain myself. You know how Lucy is with secrets. I don’t want her to give the game away.”   
      “Well you can either talk to her and potentially end this all now, or you can go through everyone else in the castle and potentially ruin it yourself by word of mouth. It’s your choice” Susan replied.   
      The High King sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I suppose you’re right, Su. I just hope I can catch her before tea, or else we’ll really have a problem. And by the way, while I’m here, have you heard anything from that blacksmith about the ring?”   
      Much to Peter’s chagrin, Susan shook her head. “I haven’t heard from Sir Ollivander in days” she replied sadly. Susan had been of great help in regards to finding Peter the perfect ring. She went so far as to help him design something special, something no one else would ever have, with intricate carvings and a beautiful stone of mossy agate. It was a jewel fit for notj just a queen but one who ran wild through the woods for so long that the forest coursed through her veins. Peter anticipated finally holding it in his hands, wrapping it up in a cute little box and presenting it to his beloved on Christmas morning. Though Susan had relayed the importance of this to the blacksmith in the Western Wood, she hoped his tardiness was just a result of devotion to this and nothing else. “If he doesn’t message us in the next 48 hours, though, I suppose I’m just going to have to go down there and check up on him myself” she added. She could see the anxiety clearly painting his face at the thought of things going awry, and placed a gentle hand atop his in reassurance. “I’m sure everthing will turn out fine, Pete. Just have a little faith.”   
      Peter nodded halfheartedly, inhaling to gather his composure. Susan was right. He needed to believe that everything would go according to plan. The clock chimed four in the afternoon, signalling a sigh from the gentle as she rose from her seat and motioned for Peter to come with her. He followed her dutifully to the parlor, despite his distaste for the place, knowing today he had no choice. Lucy had taken it upon herself to plan the entirety of the Christmas ball, seeing as Susan was so busy with her orphanage, and the valiant enjoyed being at the helm of something so grandiose and exciting anyways. Despite her delight, however, it was a big job for such a small girl and she found it necessary to enlist her siblings’ help, at least regarding invitations.  
      When the eldest Pevensies arrived, Lucy and Edmund were already seated at a fully cluttered table chatting away. A little cart sat beside the valiant, stacked high with letters and wax and a stamp of the Narnian crest. Eilonwy lounged on the windowsill casually. _Damn._  
      “Who should we invite next?” Lucy asked, mouth full of watercress.   
      “Lucy, remember your manners!” Susan scolded tiredly. She drew a piece of folded parchment up from her overskirt pocket and stared at the list scrawled upon it. “I made a comprehensive list of all the neighboring countries, both those with which we share alliances and those we have yet to meet, for us to pick from. We have to remember, this isn’t just a celebration. It’s a social event and we need to be on our best behavior so that we can make a good first impression with new dignitaries.”   
      “Well, you can start by tossing Brenn in the garbage” Eilonwy commented. Nobody knew these countries as well as she did and the last thing she wanted was for the Pevensies to invite a bunch of ingrates.   
      “What’s wrong with Brenn? Have we met them yet?” Edmund asked. The huntress shook her head.  
      “No, you haven’t. And believe me, you don’t want to” she commented.  
      “Oh, come on, Ellie, they can’t be that bad” Peter replied. “No worse than Lord Lemuel and his crew” he continued, turning to the others to then add authoritatively, “who we are _definitely_ not inviting.” He was met with a collective nod in reply.   
      “Listen, just trust me on this one” Eilonwy assured. “Brenn is filled with nothing but cheats and rogues and dishonest scoundrels who don’t give a fuck about anyone. They are not the kinds of friends you want to have.”  
      With a sigh, Susan picked up her pen and scratched at the parchment. “Alright then, so Brenn is off the list. What about the Isle of Sparrow?”  
      For the next hour, Eilonwy rattled off _yes_ and _no_ answers to every nation on the list, giving blunt and rather harsh explanations for each. By the end of the afternoon, they had addressed invitations to only three of the seven isles, Archenland, Calormen, and Galma. It was a far shorter guest list than Susan or Lucy wanted but Edmund reminded them that they had to trust Eilonwy’s judgment. After all, she was appointed advisor for a reason.   
      As everyone filtered out of the room, Peter hung back and called Lucy to join him on the balcony. She stared up at him with curious eyes, unsure of what her brother was hoping to tell her. All she knew was that if it called for privacy, it must be immensely important. “I need to know who you drew for Secret Santa” he said.  
      “What? But Peter, that’s cheating!” she exclaimed. He would’ve assumed she was highly offended if not for her lively laughter.  
      “Lucy, I know it’s cheating but you just have to trust me. This is really important” he replied, hints of desperation beginning to break through the cracks in his words. The littlest Pevensie cocked a brow in suspicion as she stared back at her brother, watching the madness slowly begin to envelope him.   
      “Alright, fine. I guess I have no choice but to tell you, I got you!” she exclaimed. “Now that you know, you ought to tell me what you want for Christmas because I’ve been drawing blanks all day.”   
      Peter sighed. Yet another failed attempt. “Quite honestly, Lucy, all I want right now is to find whoever drew Eilonwy’s name.”   
      “Oh…?” she replied slyly. Something was brewing and now she was determined to find out what. “Why do you need to know that?”   
      Peter averted his eyes, contemplating whether this was a good idea. It was risky business, telling Lucy secrets, but what other choice did he have? The only way she was going t help him was if he finally told her the truth.   
      “Alright, you want to know why I asked? Because I need to trade with whoever drew her name. I Have something special planned for her but it’s only going to work if I’m her Secret Santa, understand?” he explained. Lucy nodded.   
      “Well, then let me help you find it!” she exclaimed. “We can get it faster if we work together. What do you have planned for her, anyways?” A few moments of silence and Lucy knew Peter’s fear. “You don’t think I can keep a secret, do you?” Peter bit his lip and slowly shook his head, refusing to look at her. Placing her hands on her hips, Lucy narrowed her eyes at him. “You ought to have a little more faith in me, Peter! I’m not that bad! Come on, tell me! Pretty please?”   
      The thing about Lucy was that she was wildly persuasive. She knew when to pull out all the stops just to get what she wanted. After a few moments, she had transcended all the way to the cute stance and pouty lips, with puppy dog eyes that made her look like she was on the verge of tears lest you keep quiet for one more second.   
      “Fine” Peter sighed, finally breaking. “But you have to promise not to tell absolutely anyone about this, alright? There is no way Eilonwy can ever find out I’m doing this.” Lucy nodded, even pinkie promising to further cement the deal. Peter braced himself, straightening his back and taking a deep breath before finally saying it. “I’m going to ask Eilonwy to marry me.”   
      The second the words fell from his lips, the little queen burst like a firecracker, jumping and shrieking all over the balcony. It took her five whole minutes before she even came close to calming down but when she did, Peter begged her not to say another word about it.   
      “I can’t believe you’re going to ask Eilonwy to marry you! Eilonwy’s going to be your wife!” she gushed. “And there’s going to be a wedding and she’s going to wear a white dress and a veil and she’ll look so beautiful! And then she’ll be like a new big sister!”   
      “I know, Lucy, it’s all very exciting but you have to promise me that no one will find out about this, okay? Especially not Eilonwy. It needs to be a surprise” Peter pleaded.  
      “I know how to keep a secret, Peter. You act like I’ve never kept secrets before” she replied matter-of-factly. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise anyways!”   
      Before Peter could say another word, she bounded off down the hall and returned to her party planning duties. As he watched her disappear, he dug his nails into his palms and swallowed hard, praying that she would keep her word.   
      The following days passed in a whirlwind of chaos as everyone scrambled to prepare for the event ahead. At every turn, someone was rushing past with an enormous wreath or tray full of pastries or cart of fresh flowers. Lucy worked tirelessly to ensure that their first royal Christmas party was the best that Narnia had ever seen, all while helping Peter with his mission. Nobody really wanted to tell her anything, but just like Lucy, eventually she persuaded them all. It was when they asked for a reason that she faltered. She really did try to keep her promise, but it was so hard when everyone wanted an explanation. By the end of the week, however, the whole castle was abuzz with whispers here and there about the impending engagement.   
      Like every other day, Hattie scampered up to Eilonwy’s room bright and early to deliver a morning snack, make her bed, and retrieve her dirty laundry. It was a ritual Eilonwy wasn’t very fond of but after many unsuccessful protests, she unenthusiastically gave in to the pampering. “Sorry for the stains” Eilonwy commented, a scone hanging out of her mouth, as she drew her stockings up over her knee. “I just can’t help it, but I know they must be a massive pain in the ass to get out.”   
      “Oh, it’s no worries, miss!” Hattie replied happily, inspecting a dress still damp with sludge. “After all, I’m sure after marriage there will be far worse stains to handle.”   
      Eilonwy’s back shot ramrod straight, scone falling to the floor. “What did you say, Hattie…?” she asked, rage and fear slowly swelling inside her. She wasn’t stupid. She had heard the whisperings, swore she caught the word “marriage” on multiple lips but quickly wrote it off as her mind playing tricks on her. This, however, she knew she definitely heard right.   
      The moment Hattie realized what she had done, she wished for nothing more than to be absolutely invisible. “I…I said…” she stammered. Eilonwy rose from her vanity and stalked forward, eyes wild and hands clenched. “I mean, I just meant…if you ever do get married then…”   
      “Come on, Hattie! Out with it!” Eilonwy demanded. Despite their similar heights, the huntress seemed to tower over the faun through sheer force of will and wild intimidation. Hattie stared up at her charge, terrified, clutching the dress close to her chest as if a scrap of dirt wool would protect her.   
      “I-I’ve heard word that…that the High King prepares to ask for your hand, miss” Hattie finally said, quick and quiet. Eilonwy instantly crumbled onto her vanity’s stool. Her face had grown rather pale and dewy.   
      “He’s…he’s planning to marry me…” she stammered softly, staring off into the void. “So the whispers are true…” She looked around the room, at the messy bed and cluttered floor. A box full of memories she had long wished to forget. She had a very small but distinct window of opportunity that was now closing at an incredible speed. If she didn’t make her decision soon, she knew the choice would be made for her. No matter what she did, someone was bound to get hurt.   
      Moonlight filtered through the open windows as a steadfast heart beat in time with a steadfast hand. Tears rolled down flushed cheeks and dripped onto parchment, blurring the swooping letters of a huntress’s words. She folded the page neatly and left it there on her vanity, swinging a pack over her shoulder and praying no one would notice her in the crowd. The clock read 10:42pm.   
      The entire castle was electrified with holiday cheer as the help rushed to pin the finishing touches on the Christmas decor. Father Christmas would be making his rounds, placing presents under the tree for every good boy and girl. Even the adults would get something special, Eilonwy was sure. It was whether they wanted it that was the question.   
      Everlast neighed and recoiled as an invisible approached in the dark. Eilonwy pulled back her hood and tried to calm the mare, terrified someone might hear her whinny and come running.  
      Peter weaved through the hordes of guests, searching every face he passed. He wasn’t sure if he could wait until Christmas morning. The excitement was almost unbearable. Eilonwy was going to be his bride. He couldn’t propose, however, if he couldn’t find her. He scoured nearly every room in the castle but to no avail. Finally, he resorted to just knocking on her bedroom door. If she was nowhere else, she was bound to be there, locked away hiding from all the commotion. She was never was one for social gatherings. As he approached her chamber, however, his heart sank like lead into the pit of his stomach: her bedroom door was creaked open. Her door was never open.   
      He approached cautiously, unsure of what to expect but knew something must be terribly wrong. With bated breath, he peered inside only to find the room completely empty. A defeated sigh passed his lips as he pressed his forehead to the doorway and cursed under his breath. A soft gust of winter air flowed through the room, fluttering the corner of the note left behind. Peter paused, turning to the sound in equal parts curiosity and confusion. He lifted the note cautiously, as if it was a bomb on the verge of explosion. His fingers tingled upon finding it was addressed specifically to him. He recognized the penmanship immediately. Glassy eyes scanned the note quickly, each word stabbing a new blade into his chest. 

     Her vague delivery was in no way helpful. If anything, it made him feel even worse. What did he possibly do wrong? He only loved her. The ink still smelled fresh, proving that she had left not too long ago. A fleeting hope surged through his body and without a second’s hesitation, he started down the hallway. As he ran, he nearly tripped over a figure slumped on the staircase, face stained with tears.   
      “Hattie! Where did she go? Tell me now!” he begged, on the verge of tears himself. But Hattie was too dutiful to her charge, shaking her head as she wept hysterically and murmured desperate apologies. Peter waved her off and passed her quickly, knowing any spare second he spent there was a waste of time. Besides, if she hadn’t disappeared already, he knew there was only one place she could be.   
      “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he called, skidding to a halt in the snow. Eilonwy stood in Everlast’s pen, cloaked in crimson, tying the last of her things to her horse’s flank. The second she heard Peter’s voice, she paused and swallowed back her fear. This was the exact kind of confrontation she had hoped to avoid.   
      “How did you know I’d be here?” she replied, turning slowly to face him. A mixture of fear and frustration painted her face. Peter wasn’t sure which dominated, nor did he really care.   
      “I followed some context clues” he replied sourly, stalking forward. He was gasping for breath, sweat beading on his brow and hands shaking at his sides. “What do you think you’re doing?”   
      “Did you not read my letter?” she replied harshly, recoiling. There was a helplessness to his tone that secretly ripped her heart in half.   
      “Ellie, please don’t do this!” he begged.   
      “Please don’t call me that…” she murmured, averting her eyes.  
      “You don’t want to do this! Please! Don’t leave!” he continued. He placed a trembling hand atop hers on Everlast’s flank. “I need you. Please don’t leave me. I love you…I love you so much. And…and I know you love me, too! You said so!”   
      “When did I ever tell you that?” she fired back. She was too petrified to remove her hand.  
      “When you were sick and I took care of you! You looked up at me with tired eyes and admitted you loved me. You need me just as much as I need you so please, stay!” By now, he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. His voice was quivering, his hands were shaking. Everything was at stake. He couldn’t afford to lose her.  
      “I don’t need you or anyone else to take care of me, Peter!” she shouted back, fighting tears of her own. She was not going to cry. She refused to. Why should she, anyways? She didn’t love him. She couldn’t love him. She refused.   
      “Okay, okay. You don’t need me. You can take care of yourself. You’re fine. But we want each other and that’s just as important! And we love each other. That’s most important! Please, Eilonwy, I…I can’t imagine my life without you. You need to stay. Y-you need…you need to stay with me. Please. I can’t do any of this without you.”   
      Eilonwy sniffled and averted her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. “I think you’ve been doing a pretty fine job so far, you don’t need me hovering over everything you do. You make a fine king without me playing puppeteer. It’s time to…to cut the strings” she murmured. A smile forced it’s way onto her lips but they both knew it wasn’t genuine.  
      “Ellie? Ellie, no! No, please! Don’t do this! You can’t leave me!” he begged. He took her hands in his, held them tightly to his chest, kissed every bruised and scabbed knuckle as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I love these hands….these strong, purposeful hands. Your quick fingers. If only…if only you’d let me place a ring on one…”   
      “Peter, stop…” she pleaded, voice hoarse and cracking. Her eyes burned with the impending tears, a few drops escaping and catching on her lashes.   
      “I love this face, everything about your face” he continued, raising a hand to cup her cheek. He brushed his thumb against her skin, leaning his forehead against hers. “Your eyes, and the way hey look at me. That cute little nose, how red it gets when it’s cold. And these lips…”– he shifted his thumb so as to gently graze her bottom lip– “how they’re always so pale and chapped and imperfectly perfect. And…and this heart”– his hand skated down to her chest, pressing his palm right between her breasts. “Your good, pure, lion heart.”   
      “Peter…Peter, please…” she wept, struggling to break free from his grip. She was too weak, though whether from exhaustion or sadness she had no clue. “I need to go…”   
      “But why? Why?” he whined, holding her tighter. His nose was running over his upper lip, his eyes tired and bloodshot. His warm breath fell upon her skin, heavy and desperate and forlorn.   
      “Because, Peter!” she exclaimed, finally shoving herself away from him. The distance was a welcome relief. She gasped for breath, letting the cold air overwhelm her, and gripped at her hair. “I can’t do this! I don’t belong here. I never have and I never will! I need…I need to go, Peter. I can’t take it here anymore. I can’t be trapped here for..for the rest of my life. I can’t do it. It’s too…it’s too much, I just…I can’t spend the rest of my days someplace where I’m not happy and I…I’m not…I’m not happy here. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so…I’m so sorry. I never…I never meant to hurt you but…but I can’t be with you, here, like this. I can’t. I’m so…I’m so sorry, Peter…” She recoiled to the very back of the pen, pressing her back against the wood and fighting for her composure. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Peter stood there frozen in his place, watching her through blurred eyes.   
      “Y-you can’t…you can’t just leave me like this!” he screamed. He could literally feel his heart tearing inside of his chest, each shard stabbing his flesh from the inside and ripping apart his organs. “You do belong here, Eilonwy! You belong with me…”   
      The huntress shook her head, breath hitching in her throat. “I don’t, Peter. I really don’t. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not what you think I am. I was never meant to be a…a wife or a mother or…or a queen. The…the sooner I leave here, the better off we are. All of us.”   
      “Better off? You think leaving makes us better off?” the magnificent asked incredulously. “We’re not better off without you, Ellie! We need you! All of us need you!”   
      “Well, I don’t need…all of _this_ ” she replied, motioning to the castle. “Peter, please, just…try to listen to me. I can’t stand to stay here anymore. It’s not right. This castle is a box that I just don’t fit inside. B-besides…it’s filled with too many horrible memories.”   
      Peter surged forward, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. He needed o savor every last moment with her, absorb every single morsel of her being, every detail of her face and body and hair and clothes and scent. “But you do fit, Eilonwy. Please, believe me when I say that. You do. Just please…please stay with me. W-we can make new, beautiful memories to overshadow the bad ones. Just please…if you’d give me a chance…”   
      “That’s…that’s not how this works, Peter. That’s not how any of this works” she squeaked, shaking her head against his chest. “Just because you make new memories doesn’t mean the old ones disappear. They’ll always be there, Peter. Every time I walk past that parlor, they’re always there. It’s all I can see, every waking moment, it’s there. I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this anymore. Please, don’t…don’t make this any harder th-than it needs to be. I need…I-I need to go, Peter…please…just let me go.”   
      Her pained whispers slaughtered him as he squeezed her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His tears slid down his face and condensed against her skin, seeping into her pores as if a little part of him would always be with her. He held her for a moment longer before loosening his grip, tilting her chin upwards to face him. Looking at him hurt, how broken and dissolved he had become. In that moment, they were no longer the High King and the lost princess. All she saw was that terrified little boy from when they first met, naive and desperate and vulnerable, fighting for something he had a high chance of painfully losing. He had come so far and yet was still so much that same little boy. His shaky fingers brushed the stray strands of hair from her face, just trying to collect every last moment with her and make them last.   
      “I love you…I love you so, so much…” he whimpered. Caressing her cheek, he gently shifted his head and leaned in, lips barely brushing against hers, but she quickly turned away before he could give her a proper kiss. Kissing would make things far too complicated. This needed to be a clean break. She at least owed him that much. Without another word, she composed herself and mounted her mare, gripping her mane tightly. The longer Peter looked at her, the weaker she felt until she began to question whether she really had the strength to do this. But no, she had to. She had no other choice. She needed to leave. She gazed down at him sadly, forcing a smile. As if in silent communication, she bid him goodbye. In a matter of seconds, she disappeared into the darkness, never to be seen again.  
      Peter clung to the post of Everlast’s pen, watching as is beloved was swallowed up by the night. A rock dropped into his stomach, knowing he would never, ever see her again. The love of his life. The woman he wanted to marry. He slowly reached into his pocket, terrified, and pulled out the ring he was so set on giving her. The moment he laid eyes on it, he burst into monstrous tears, clutching it close to his chest and falling to his knees. Eilonwy was gone and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.  
      As the morning light fell across her face, Lucy jolted awake with the sugar sweet realization that it was finally Christmas morning. Without a second to lose, she leapt out of bed and down the hall, banging on doors screaming, “Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” In true Lucy fashion, however, she did all of this at what her siblings would consider an ungodly hour but thus was tradition. The three of them trudged out of their rooms, each in varying degrees of sleep deprivation, and shuffled to the great hall where a large tree filled with presents awaited them. Lucy dove head-first into the pile, astonished with how many boxes there were. She took it upon herself to read the labels on each and hand them out to the deserving recipient, ripping open her own at warp speed only to ooh and aah at every single gift. There was something inherently heartwarming about Christmas morning and the way it seemed to redeem all the bad in the world. At least for most people.   
      “What happened to you? Rough night last night?” Edmund asked his brother, the only one without a smile upon his face. The High King was an absolute mess. His cheeks felt tight from the tears that had dried upon them the night before, his eyes were puffy and red, face pale and hair matted beyond repair. Even his pajamas were buttoned incorrectly, much to Susan’s obsessive-compulsive chagrin. Peter simply groaned in response, shaking his head and rubbing his face.   
      “I really don’t want to talk about it, Ed. Just open your presents and carry on as if I wasn’t here” he croaked. The just simply raised a brow and slowly turned back to the task at hand.   
      “Peter! This one’s for you!” Lucy exclaimed, struggling to lift a rather large box from beneath the tree. Peter sighed and forced himself forward to take it from her, dragging it back to his seat. Truthfully, he didn’t give a damn about Christmas presents. The only thing he wanted, he was never going to get back. Contrastingly, though, he didn’t want to seem rude and turn down anything he was given. He ripped the package open carelessly to find a large tapestry mapping out the whole of Narnia and the surrounding countries. It was impressive, no doubt, but even something so grand as this could not enlighten Peter this morning.  
      Lucy’s voice once again snapped him from his daze, standing with a decent sized box to ask, “Say, Peter? Where’s Eilonwy? This one’s addressed to her.” The High King’s heart suffered another tinge of pain, his throat constricting to the point where he was unsure if he could even speak.   
      Tossing his box to the ground, he shook his head and replied, “She’s not coming.”  
      “Not coming? What do you mean?” Susan exclaimed. “She’s not sick or something again, is she?”   
      “No” Peter said bluntly. “She’s gone.”  
      “What do you mean she’s gone?” Lucy asked dreadfully. She lowered the box to the ground, her heart racing in fear.   
      Peter wasn’t sure if he had the strength for this. A part of him hated Eilonwy for leaving him to explain her mess to everyone. For leaving him heartbroken. “She left. Late last night” he started, then explained everything that had happened to the best of his ability. The room had grown dead silent as he finished, sucking nearly all the joy out of Christmas morning with his tale.   
      “But what about the proposal…? She was going to be a part of our family…” Lucy murmured. She didn’t understand. They had treated Eilonwy with nothing but kindness. They loved her dearly. They wanted her to stay with them forever. The littlest queen couldn’t see any reason as to why their dear friend would just leave, especially without saying goodbye.  
      “Not anymore, she’s not” Peter said. “But don’t let me ruin your Christmas. I’m fine. Promise.” He was obviously not fine. Everyone could tell the High King was heartbroken but he refused to let them pity him. He had brought all of this upon himself. He was hasty and naive. He had jumped the gun and tried to propose to a girl who didn’t even want him to begin with. By now, he was certain that he must have hallucinated that night she told him she loved him. He must have imagined it all, projected his own desires into a hazy, sleep-deprived memory. Not that any of it mattered anymore. There was nobody to blame but himself.  
      As day turned to night and the sun dipped into the Great Eastern Sea, guests from all across the land began filing into the ballroom. A group of fauns gathered in the corner to play a rousing tune: Tumnus’s flute fluttered alongside Professor Arcadian’s violin, with Hattie surprisingly manning the drums in a talent nobody had ever expected of her. Every guest overflowed with happiness, dancing and stuffing their faces. In that moment, that was all that mattered.   
      “At least everyone else is enjoying themselves” Lucy remarked as she poured herself another glass of punch.   
      “Why do you say that?” Edmund asked, filling his plate once more. “Are you not having fun?”   
      Lucy shook her head. “No, Ed, as a matter of fact I’m not.”   
      “Why not? This is all your hard work. Everyone is having a great time. I’d say all of your planning turned out to be a success. You should reap the benefits, Lu. After all, it’s Christmas.”   
      “Well, it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Not like this” Lucy sighed. Her eyes shifted to Peter staring absently out the large windows. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”   
      Edmund glanced to his brother and shook his head. “I know you feel for Pete. We all do. But this isn’t our problem. Peter needs to figure his way out of this maze and when he does, he’ll be fine.”   
      “Edmund, you don’t understand. This is all my fault” Lucy pleaded.   
      “Lu, what are you talking about? You had nothing to do with this.”   
      “Yes, I did” she demanded. “If it wasn’t for me and my big mouth, Eilonwy never would’ve found out about the proposal and everything would’ve been alright. I did this and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.”   
      Edmund sighed and wrapped an arm around his baby sister. “Lucy, listen. If it wasn’t for Peter being hasty and rushing into a proposal, you never would’ve been put in the situation you were. This is Peter’s battle and all we can do is let him know we’re there for him and that we care about him, you know?”   
      Lucy nodded halfheartedly. “I suppose you’re right. Still doesn’t make me feel much better, though.”   
      “You will, Lucy. I promise, you will” Edmund reassured her. Lucy leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder, watching their guests laugh and dance, and prayed that he was right.   
      As the night neared it’s end, Professor Arcadian called for everyone’s attention to initiate the Secret Santa exchange. Tumnus stood on tiptoes, oblivious to the drastic changes of their plan, and conducted a quick head count to ensure everyone was there. A look of distress crossed his face when he discovered someone very important was, in fact, missing.   
      “Where’s Eilonwy? She needs to be here, too!” he exclaimed.   
      “She’s not coming” Peter announced bluntly. He didn’t have the heart to explain everything a second time, leading Susan to jump in and whisper a brief explanation. Tumnus uttered a soft oh as he chewed over the news, Hattie gripping her friend’s forearm for both comfort and support.   
      “I should’ve known _she_ would be the cause of some sort of kerfuffle here” Arcadian remarked, glaring over the top of his spectacles.  
      Tumnus bowed his head in response, placing a hand upon Hattie’s. “Eilonwy was a dear friend. To all of us. She may have had her moments, but she was kindhearted at the core of it all. She will be missed dearly.” His mind flashed back to when he came to her a year prior, speaking of his fears in entertaining the human Lucy Pevensie in his home and Eilonwy’s outburst of a reply. Despite how cruel she had sometimes been, he still held her very near and dear to his heart. He never would’ve wished ill upon her. A small sliver of him prayed she’d come to her senses and return someday soon, but he knew Eilonwy well enough to understand she was often far too stubborn to back down from her decisions. If only he could’ve just seen her one last time.   
      “What about the presents?” Lucy then asked.   
      Snapping from his daze, Tumnus exclaimed and replied, “Well, I suppose you can all feel free to exchange your gifts with one another now.”   
      “I’m sorry I didn’t actually get you anything, Ed” Peter mumbled, turning to his brother in personal disappointment. Edmund placed a hand upon the High King’s shoulder.   
      “It’s alright, Pete. I understand” he whispered softly. Though he knew it wasn’t exactly his problem, he, too, missed Eilonwy. He still may not have known her very well but he knew enough to at least like her. In many ways, she reminded him of himself: a mended traitor with a shameful history. She understood his strange and experiential relationship with Jadis like no one else because she, too, had faced her own long before. She was outspoken and brash and blunt and strong. She was, to Edmund, an ideal model of patriotism and valor. She deserved so much better than what she was dealt.   
      Lucy approached slowly, nervously, clutching a small box in her hands. “Peter? I know this may not be the most appropriate gift to give you now, but I didn’t have time to get you anything else. I’m dreadfully sorry.”   
      The High King shook his head, still appreciative of the gift, and took the box from her. He opened it slowly to find two little wooden figures modeled after himself and Eilonwy. A sob broke past his lips as he turned to Lucy and wrapped an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you anyways, Lucy. I love it.”   
      “I thought…I thought you could put them on top of the cake when you, you know…got married” she whispered, skirting around her words carefully. Tears welled up in her own eyes at the thought of that wedding never coming to fruition. She had so hoped for her brother and friend to get their happily ever after.   
      “It’s okay, Lucy” Peter whispered, wiping his tears. “All I wanted for Christmas was Eilonwy, but now that she’s gone, I suppose this is as close as I’m ever going to get.”   
      Lucy nodded solemnly, patting her brother’s back, before a realization struck her. Turning to the rest of the guests, she commanded their attention and then asked, “Wait a minute, who drew Eilonwy?”   
      All the faces in the crowd looked to one another quizzically, checking their slips and shaking their heads.   
      “You mean none of you drew Eilonwy’s name?” Susan questioned. Again, everyone shook their heads. The four Pevensies looked to each other in confusion, trying to figure out how that could possibly be. Clearly someone was failing to speak up.   
      “It is my understanding…” a voice then boomed. Professor Arcadian stepped forth from the crowd, looking as pretentious as ever. “…That in a drawing of 25 such as yourself, the chance of a negative permutation is far larger than one might expect.” When the professor was met with a full minute of unblinking eyes, he sighed and shook his head before adding, “In layman’s terms, it is not unlikely that Miss Eilonwy has perchance drawn herself.”   
      Another long minute of silence enveloped the ballroom as Peter comprehended the possibility of such a thing. It made quite a bit of sense: there was no way he could’ve ever hoped to find her name if she had it herself the whole time. Not that any of it mattered much now. She was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing else mattered anymore.   
      Saddened by their brother’s heartbreak, Susan and Edmund and Lucy all huddled close and wrapped their arms around the High King in comfort. They knew it wasn’t much and that it probably wouldn’t make him feel any better but it was the least they could do for someone they loved so much.  
As the night came to a close and the guests began filtering out one by one, Peter stood by the large windows and looked out at his country longingly. He knew not where Eilonwy had gone nor where she intended to end up but wherever she was, he hoped she was happy with the decisions she had made. What he did know, however, was that no matter where she went, he could scour the entirety of Narnia and the surrounding countries and would never find anyone was amazing, as strong, as beautifully complex as that little lost princess. And, by extension of that, that he would never love anyone nearly as much as he loved Eilonwy, Princess of Narnia.


End file.
